


Death of a Bachelor

by Fangirling_FTW



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Author Castiel, Based On A Panic! At The Disco Song, Castiel Has Secrets, Casual Sex, Destiel - Freeform, Drinking, Eventual Fluff, F/F, F/M, Feels, Gay Sex, Heterosexual Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, PA Dean Winchester, Pining, References to Drugs, Sabriel - Freeform, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut, The slowest, Top!Cas, bottom!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-08-14 09:32:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 117,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8008255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirling_FTW/pseuds/Fangirling_FTW
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of tragic circumstances left Dean with a pile of hospital bills and his brother to take care of.  To make ends meet, he needs to take a new personal assistant job, one that's going to fly him halfway across the country to work for one of the nation's hottest new authors: Castiel Novak.  Castiel isn't what Dean was expecting at all, and he comes to realize why Castiel has a reputation for being a difficult boss to work for.  Time away from Sam, and getting to know his boss, make Dean realize he needs to reevaluate his life and what he wants for himself.</p><p>And that just might include the one person he cannot have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1. Impossible Year

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I'm back with another fic! 
> 
> This one is based on the Panic! at the Disco album "Death of a Bachelor", every chapter will include a situation based on a song from that album, or something similar. As a result, some chapters may be longer or shorter than others to make sure the whole story fits into 13 chapters. 
> 
> This story does go to some dark places, and is a little more rough around the edges than what I'm used to writing, hence the explicit rating. It's going to be rough, but if any of you have read my fics before, I always give my boys a happy ending (spoilers). 
> 
> I'll TRY (lol, we all know how good I am at that) to post about every 2-3 weeks. I'm working on two stories at once (this one and "To Be Human"), so hopefully I'll be able to balance the two well enough to keep up with the schedule.
> 
> Alright, I hope you guys enjoy, this one is already making me very excited!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning in advance for Het Sex in this chapter... :-/

 

_ There's no sunshine this impossible year _ __  
_ Only black days and sky grey _ __  
_ And clouds full of fear _ __  
_ And storms full of sorrow that won't disappear _ __  
_ Just typhoons and monsoons _ __  
_ This impossible year _ __  
__  
_ There's no good times this impossible year _ __  
_ Just a beachfront of bad blood _ __  
_ And a coast that's unclear _ __  
_ All the guests at the party they're so insincere _ __  
_ They just intrude and exclude _ __  
_ This impossible year _ __  
__  
_ There's no you and me this impossible year _ __  
_ Only heartache and heartbreak _ __  
_ And gin made of tears _ __  
_ The bitter pill is swallowed, the scars souvenir _ __  
_ That tattoo, your last bruise _ __  
_ This impossible year _ __  
__  
_ There's never air to breathe _ __  
_ There's never in-betweens _ __  
_ These nightmares always hang on past the dream _ __  
__  
_ There's no sunshine _ __  
_ There's no you and me _ __  
_ There's no good times _ _  
_ __ This impossible year

-*-*-*-

 

“Come on, Zeke, please.”  Even before Dean left home for the office to plead his case he already knew the answer, but it never hurt to try.

“I am sorry, Dean, but there's nothing more I can do.  There just isn't enough demand here.”  His boss was genuinely sympathetic, so that had to count for something.

Then again, everyone in this town seemed to have sympathy for Dean.

Still, Ezekiel had become more than a boss to Dean, he'd become his friend, helping him find clients where no one else could, which is why Dean never thought he’d be facing this problem.

“I know.  Thanks for trying,” Dean sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face to try and hide his frustration.  January 9th was now officially added to the list of days in Dean's life that sucked ass.  Ezekiel stepped around his desk, leaning on the front corner as he spoke.

“I hope it wasn't too forward of me, but I contacted a PA firm in LA on your behalf.  They have a job ready for you should you wish to take it.”  Ezekiel was holding out a packet of papers, and Dean took them cautiously.

“LA, huh?  That's a bit of a hike,” Dean pointed out, leaning back in his chair and flipping through the packet.

“As petty as it might seem, out there your looks and age will be a great asset to you.  Combined with glowing recommendations from both me and the regional manager-”  Dean cut his boss off with a snort.

“I'm sorry, I got a ‘glowing’ recommendation from  _ Zachariah?!” _  The smallest smile, a rare sight indeed for Ezekiel, spread across his boss’ face.

“I may have gotten a few drinks in him first.”  Dean's eyebrows shot up in new appreciation for the man in front of him.

“You sly dog,” Dean laughed.  He turned his attention back to the packet, and choked on his laugh when he saw the projected pay range.  “Holy fuck, you sure they didn't misprint where the comma goes?!”

“Supply and demand, Dean.  People like you, good at your job and of a certain physical description, are in high demand, hence the pay raise.”  The small clock on his desk chimed for 1pm, and Dean stood, Ezekiel offering Dean his hand.  “I really think you should consider this, Dean,” he urged.  Dean tucked the packet under his arm, shaking his hand firmly.

“I’ll think about it.  Thank you, by the way.”  Ezekiel nodded and Dean left the office with a  _ little _ more hope than he went in with, and that was saying something for Dean.

Tugging his dad’s old leather jacket tighter around his shoulders, he dropped into the driver’s seat of his ‘67 Chevy Impala, turning on the heat against the January chill.  He opened the packet back to the page about his pay, sighing heavily.  That was more money than Dean would ever hope to make here in Lawrence, but California was so far…  He dropped the packet in the seat next to him, putting his blue tooth in his ear and dialing his little brother.  Granted, he should probably stop saying ‘little’, he was taller than Dean now, in spite of the four year difference.  Dean maintained that it was unnatural for someone who hadn't turned 20 yet to be that tall, but all it ever got him was a smack on the back of his head.

“Hey, Dean, how'd it go?” his brother’s voice was hopeful, his endless optimism that always brought a smile to Dean’s face.

“About what I expected.”  Dean tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice, but Sam heard it anyway.

“So nothing?  No new clients?” 

“I've got some options, Sammy, don't worry about it,” he insisted.

“I could always take a semester off, get a job-”

“Sam we talked about this, you're not leaving school,” Dean cut him off.

“But, Dean, it's my-”

“If you say ‘it's my problem’ so help me,” Dean warned.  Sam was silent for a few minutes.

“I remembered something new today, a good one,” Sam said casually.  Dean smiled, the tension leaving his shoulders at the pleasant change in topic.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, you and Dad took me to this amateur wrestling thing, when we were kids.  I remember the smell of beer, and almost being sick because of it.”  Dean laughed, remembering that night fondly.

“Yeah, cause the jerk in the seats behind us spilled his beer all over us.  Dad nearly knocked the guy out.  God, I think I was, what, 10?”  

“So you're saying I was 6, and Dad took me to a podunk wrestling match?” Sam laughed.

“Hey, it was male bonding time,” Dean insisted.  

“Whatever, Dean,” Sam sighed.  “Alright, I gotta head to JCCC.  I'll see you later tonight.”

“Later shrimp,” Dean said, hanging up on Sam’s indignant reply.  He tucked his Bluetooth in his shirt pocket, the happiness from his brother’s conversation fading away.  Dean longed to go back to those simpler times, back before his family had been torn apart utterly and completely.

His mom had died when he was 8 years old, cancer suddenly rose up and took her before she even had a chance to fight.  Then three years ago, his life had been turned upside down all over again.  He could still remember the phone call from Bobby, remember the exact table he was sitting at in the Roadhouse with his then girlfriend Lydia, could still smell the burning tires when he hauled ass in his truck for the hospital.  John Winchester was gone.   _ Drunk driving, _ which apparently made his life insurance null and void.

The worst part was Sammy had been in the car when his dad tried to drive through a tree.  Both his legs were broken, and he’d suffered a traumatic brain injury.  The month that Sam was in a medically induced coma was the worst month of Dean’s life, and all Dean remembered of it was sitting in the hospital or rebuilding the Impala.  Sam had eventually woken up, but real life wasn’t done with him yet.  There Dean was, barely 21, and suddenly he was his brother’s sole caregiver, and responsible for a pile of hospital bills taller than he was.  Every spare cent they had was now going towards paying off debt that Dean couldn't see an end to.  

They couldn't afford their own place, so they lived with their Dad’s best friend, Bobby, his wife Ellen, and his daughter Jo.  Growing up, Dean had his eyes on a house a few miles from Bobby’s, a decent sized property with a two story, five bedroom farmhouse and a barn on it.  The place was going to be quite a fixer upper, and between that and the mortgage, Dean had given up on it after the accident, one of many small dreams he'd willingly sacrifice for his brother.  With Sam’s physical therapy and his brain injury, Dean was unable to go to college like he'd planned, working shifts at Bobby’s garage in the morning and Ellen’s bar at night.  Even that wasn't enough, though, and Ellen pointed out that, with his attention to detail and a knack for scheduling, not to mention his “never ending need to help people”, as she'd said word for word, a secretary or personal assistant would be a good fit for him.  

He hadn't believed her at first, not that he was against the job itself, but because he figured no one would want an uneducated, small town kid like him.  Okay, if he was really honest with himself, he hadn’t ever considered he’d be someone’s errand boy, either.  Turned out she'd been right, he got hired on rather quickly at a firm that served most of the Midwest.  It was a bit of a drive, his client’s offices were usually in Topeka, but the money made up for it.  He managed to get Sam into the local community college for next to nothing, covering the cost of his used books with some of the new cash flow, but it was still tight.  And now without any new clients...

He pulled into the Roadhouse, tucking the job offer away in a cubby behind the bar to read on his break and pulled on an apron.  Tonight he'd be on the bar until last call at 1am, then he'd be up for a shift at the garage around 6:30am, working till about 5pm, then it was back to the Roadhouse.  Ash, part time employee and part time patron wandered in and dropped onto his favorite stool.  Dean already had his beer on the counter, waving at him as he sat.

“Ooh, look at those pensive shoulders.  Dean, my man, lay it out,” he grunted.  Dean shook his head. 

“I'm the barkeep, you're supposed to lay your troubles on me.”  Ash seemed to think about that.

“Pretty sure the whole being your friend thing trumps that,” he decided, downing half the beer and belching spectacularly.  Dean smirked and shook his head as he stocked the glasses.

“Stay classy,” he sighed.  

“He's right, you know,” Ellen said in her  _ mom _ voice as she passed by.  “You okay, honey?”  Dean took the empty plastic tray to the back, pausing to kiss the top of her head on his way by.

“It's fine,” he called.  “I just got a lot to think about.” 

“Well, don't do it too hard, you might break something,” Jo teased as she stepped behind the bar, dropping off some dirty glasses and dishes.  Dean rolled his eyes at her, bumping her with his hip as he stepped up to fill the order she dropped off.  “No news on the job?” she said under her breath, so her mom couldn't hear.  Dean shook his head.

“Not the news I wanted.  Zeke says there’s just not enough work here.”  She took her time putting the oranges in the Blue Moons she was getting ready to serve.

“Sorry, man.  You put two good years in, you think they'd be a little more helpful.”

“Actually-”

“Joanna, less talking more serving!” Ellen called from the kitchen window.  Jo tiptoed to kiss Dean’s cheek, winking as she walked off to her table, her blonde ponytail swishing in her wake.

The night went by in a blur, Dean serving drinks and smiling till his cheeks were sore.  He was good at this, and he really enjoyed it, but Ellen could only pay him so much.  The job offer kept sounding more and more appealing, but the miles between Lawrence and LA kept rising to the forefront of his mind.  As he and Jo counted out their tips before cashing out, she nudged him with her elbow.

“What's that?” she asked, nodding at the stack of papers Ezekiel had given him.  He finished counting his stack of cash, logging it into the register.

“An option,” he said casually.  She reached for it but he snatched her wrist, deflecting her fingers easily and grabbing it quickly.

“I’m headed out!” he called, ignoring Jo’s pout.

“Get some sleep, boy,” Ellen called back.  “And don’t think I won’t check for light under your bedroom door!”  He tiredly drove down the back streets to Bobby’s, leaving room for Ellen’s car as he pulled into the drive.  He wasn't surprised to see Sam sitting on the couch, laptop propped open on his lap and headphones in.  Sam had trouble sleeping after the accident, sometimes only able to catch a few hours, sometimes sleeping for a whole day.  Dean had just learned to roll with it, one of the new quirks about his brother he’d had to adjust to.

“What have I said about watching porn in the living room?” Dean joked, kicking off his shoes and pulling off his flannel.  

“It's not porn, jerk, it's homework.  I'm keeping an eye on the fire, too.”  Dean appreciated the warm house, but all he did was flip Sam the bird on his way upstairs.

“Just don't let me hear anything,” Dean called quietly.  

Before the accident, Sam had a full ride to Stanford for their law program.  After the accident... something happened to his memory, which made school difficult once he finally went back.  After talking to every person on the registrar staff at KU, and with Sam’s fantastic grades from Johnson County Community College, he'd convinced them to honor that full ride, at least for books and tuition.  Room and board were another issue, but there was no way Dean was letting Sam miss college on account of money.  Dean made sure he kept his accounting to himself, made sure Sam didn't see how thin their finances were, but if it wasn't for Ellen feeding them every night, he was sure they'd have gone hungry about a year ago.

He stumbled into the tiny bedroom he and Sam shared, setting his job offer on his bedside table.  Stripping down to his boxer briefs and stepping into sweat pants, he tossed his clothes vaguely in the direction of the hamper, walking to the hall bathroom, brushing his teeth and walking back to their room.  Dean plugged his phone into it's charger, eyeing the stack of paper cautiously.

Could he really do that?  Uproot his entire life and move halfway across the country?  Leave his home and his family behind?  He'd be making more than enough money, and he could send Sam whatever he didn't use for the hospital bills and for his own needs.  Budgets and scenarios played out in his head.  Would his new job cover his cost to move?  Would it make work hard on Ellen or Bobby to replace him?  How would Sam feel about it?

“Dean?  You awake?” Sam called quietly into the dark room.

“Hmm.”  Dean opened his eyes, watching as his brother walked in and turned on the small reading light by his bed.

“Jo said you were off your game tonight,” he stated.  Dean sat up, rubbing his hair agitatedly.

“Jo needs to mind her own fucking business.”

“Don't do that,” Sam sighed.  “Just talk to me, okay?”  Sam sunk down onto his own bed, looking at Dean expectantly through his shaggy hair.  Dean had been meaning to help Sam cut it, but he'd been working so much he hadn't had the chance lately.  He exhaled slowly, picking up the papers and walking over to Sam’s bed, dropping down next to him.

“I've got a job offer.  A good one, a lot more money, good benefits.”  Sam was quiet as he waited for the ‘but’.  When it came to their lives, they'd both learned there was always a ‘but’.  Some called it pessimism, but the Winchester boys had learned to call it pragmatic.  “Thing is, it's in LA.”  Sam nodded, calmly taking the papers from Dean and looking through them.

“You don't want to leave me behind.”  He wasn't wrong, if he didn't have Sam, Dean would have taken the job in a heartbeat.  And after everything that had happened, Dean’s ‘protective older brother’ had gone into overdrive.  “Dean, holy crap, you gotta take this job!” Sam said suddenly, practically bouncing on the bed, nearly knocking Dean off.

“I know it's a lot of money-” Dean started, but Sam cut him off by shoving one of the sheets of paper in his face.

“Screw the money, did you see who you’d be working for?!”  Dean took the sheet Sam was waving around and read down the page.

“Castiel Novak?  And?”  Sam let out an exasperated groan.

“I would ask if you were living under a rock but I know where you sleep.”  Before Dean could come back with his own retort Sam reached into his bin of books next to his bed and dug around, producing one with a flourish.   _ After Death Do Us Part,  _ the title read.

“I recognize that,” Dean searched his memory quickly, “something to do with the apocalypse and demons?”  Sam rolled his eyes.

“It's the first book to make it to number 5 on the NY Times bestseller list with a gay main character!  It's freaking amazing, and I think you're the only person in the  _ world  _ who hasn't read it yet.”  Dean scoffed.

“Really, the  _ only  _ person?”

“Uncle Bobby read it,” Sam said smugly.  Dean grumbled, taking the book from his brother and flipping to the summary.

 

_ ‘We all knew the world was going to end, someday.  It was this inevitable cloud hanging over us, and when it rained, it poured.  There's so few of us left who have adapted, so few who can survive what's left of the world.  We feel the call, the need to find our Haven, but how can we go on when the waking world is worse than our nightmares.’ _

 

“Huh,” Dean shrugged, “alright, it sounds pretty good,” he admitted.  He flipped to the author bio, and holy  _ shit _ that was not what he was expecting.  Maybe a woman, with a name like Castiel, or an old guy in glasses, not  _ this _ .  The man looked to be only a few years older than Dean, dark flyaway hair and bright eyes.  The picture was in black and white but Dean would put money down on them being blue or green.

“You want to borrow it, for the drive over?” Sam asked.  “They say authors put a lot of themselves into their writing, might help you get to know him a bit.”  Dean looked up at Sam, setting the book aside for the moment.

“You really think I should take the job?” he asked seriously.  Sam shrugged. 

“I think it would be exciting, to live in LA.  You might meet some celebrities if you're working for Castiel Novak,” Sam pointed out.  Dean couldn't care less about that, and Sam knew it, but Dean appreciated the meaning behind the words.

“Sammy-”

“Dean I'm not a kid anymore.  I’m not in recovery anymore, either.  I'm ready to go to college, to get out there and  _ live _ .”

“I know, Sam.”  Dean sighed, taking the job offer back from Sam.  “It's… I know you can take care of yourself, I do.”  He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to relieve some of the tension.  How did he do it?  Explain to Sam his fear, his worry, without letting him see just how desperate and scared he was every day?

“I'll be fine.”  Sam kept speaking when it was obvious Dean wouldn't.  “Bobby is here, close enough to come get me, I've got preferred housing at school, they even include a meal plan.”  Leave it to Sam to use his logic against Dean.

“Remember they say you gain 20lbs your freshman year, I don't want to come home and find you with a beer gut at 20,” Dean mumbled.  

“I'll miss you too, jerk,” Sam smiled, nudging Dean with his shoulder.  Dean scoffed and ruffled Sam’s hair.

“Alright, bitch, no touchy-feely crap.  Go to sleep, Sammy.”  Dean walked back to his own bed, curling up under his blanket.  Now that he had Sam’s approval, he felt his body relax, falling asleep quickly.

 

Dean took a week to get his affairs in order in Kansas, making sure that Bobby and Ellen had help coming in, packing up what little belongings he had, and tuning up the Impala for the long drive.  He had been emailing some guy named Charlie, who worked for the  _ Guardian Angels,  _ the PA firm in LA he'd been hired by.  Dean was never able to bring himself to say the name out loud to any of his friends or family, but in a town like LA he imagined it wouldn’t be as much of a mouthful.  Charlie had assured him he'd have furnished lodging upon his arrival, and that he'd be there to meet Dean when he arrived at the firm’s office to fill out paperwork.  

Jo insisted on throwing Dean a party the day before he left, since he was leaving before his birthday, and Ellen closed the Roadhouse early to accommodate.  Dean was never big on being the center of attention, so it wasn't the largest party, just Dean’s family and a handful of his friends.  Rufus and Garth from the garage were there, Ash, Ash’s girlfriend Cassie (whom Dean had dated for a short while, before she left him for the MIT grad), and Lisa, his… something.  Dean wasn't sure what to call her at this point, ex, fuck buddy, friend with benefits.  She was pretty, tan skin, dark hair, and when they had dated, they’d been good together, but Dean never had much success with relationships.  Most girls would get on his case about putting Sam first, and the good ones like Lisa didn't want to come between them.  They’d had a mutual breakup, Lisa had even seen a few other guys, but sometimes still they would sleep together.  Dean had made it clear it was just sex, and Lisa had easily agreed that’s all they were.  

Dean tried to pretend it didn’t hurt, stumbling out of her apartment in the middle of the night, wishing he could be man enough to stay.

Lisa had just joined him with a beer, sliding onto a barstool next to him, off from the main group that was dancing to something Jo had called the ‘Cupid shuffle’.

“So, LA,” she said.  Dean nodded.

“LA.”  

“Never figured you for the LA type.” she added.  “The whole ‘California dreaming’ image doesn't quite fit you.”  Dean shrugged.

“Closest I got was when I was real little, I thought about becoming a rock star, when I was singing with mom to the radio.  After she died…”  Dean watches Sam dancing next to Jo, a huge beaming smile on his face.  “Now I've got someone else to worry about.  Not much else matters.”  Lisa followed his gaze to Sam, smiling.

“Maybe this will be good, for both of you, take some time to live your own lives.  Not saying to cut yourself off, just, some space might do you both good.”  The ‘dance’ ended, and when a slow song started on the jukebox, Ash grabbed hold of Sam, waltzing around the dance floor with him while Jo and Cassie laughed.  Dean smiled, finishing his beer and waving at Ellen across the bar.

“Maybe,” Dean agreed with Lisa.  He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pressing a kiss into her hair.  “Ready to go?”  She smiled knowingly at him.

“It's your party, if you want to go, I'm not going to stop you.”  She smiled knowingly at him.

“Thought you might join me, one for the road,” Dean smirked and squeezed her tight.  She rolled her eyes at the crappy pick up line but slid off her barstool all the same.

“Guess I don’t have to buy you a birthday gift,” she teased.  He shrugged and winked, hopping off his stool.

“I’ll be the judge of that.”  She walked out, swaying her hips since she knew he was watching, and Dean huffed a laugh.  He made his rounds, saying goodbye to the people he wouldn't see the next morning, promising to email and call, then walked out to the Impala, driving over to Lisa’s apartment.

The door was unlocked and he let himself in, locking the door behind him and stripping out of his jackets.

“You always look good when you do that.  What’s the phrase, ‘hate to see you go, love to watch you leave’?” Lisa hummed from behind him.  He turned to see her in a bright pink nightie, smiling coyly at him from her bedroom door.  Dean smiled, kicking off his boots and walking up to her, anticipation getting his blood flowing.

“And  _ you  _ know how I feel about this thing.”  He pulled the strap off her shoulder, kissing up her soft skin to her neck.

“Yeah, well, it  _ is _ a present,” she purred, pulling him backwards into the bedroom.  Dean trailed his hands over the silky fabric, running along her curves from her waist up to her shoulders.  

“A present, huh,” Dean laughed, breathing in the scent of her hair when she stepped in to kiss his neck softly. While they may not work in the relationship department,  _ this  _ they had always been  _ very _ good at.  Her hands slid down his stomach, deftly undoing his belt and buttons, giving one sharp tug that had his jeans pooling around his ankles.

“Well, you always were good in bed,” she admitted with a giggle, trailing her fingers along the hard length in his boxer briefs.  He captured her mouth in a kiss, lifting and tossing her carefully onto the bed, only pausing long enough to pull his shirt over his head and grab a condom from his wallet.  Lisa shimmied her panties off, leaving the nightie, while Dean slipped out of his underwear.  Lisa bit her lip and giggled as he crawled up the bed to her, bracketing her with his arms and legs.  He was ready to go, his body reacting in anticipation for what was to come, but he didn’t mind dragging this out a bit.  They knew each other’s bodies perfectly, their movements well rehearsed but no less enjoyable.  He mouthed at her breasts through the nightie, her back arching under him as he teased at the flesh through the silk.  Once her fingers tangled in his hair, he slid a hand down between her thighs, his fingers finding her warmth easily.  She gasped on an exhale as his finger slipped inside her, her body wet and ready as well.  Sliding in a second finger, his thumb found her clit, and she rocked her hips into his touch.  He started up a smooth motion, bending his wrist to hit the angle he knew she loved best, relishing the way her inner walls squeezed his fingers.

“Fucking tease,” she hummed.  He smirked, removing his fingers to slide on the condom, and climbing between her thighs.

“You know you like it,” he hummed into her neck.  She shoved him, rolling them over and sinking down over him with a satisfied sigh.  

Dean let himself get lost in the moment, the slide of two bodies moving together drowning out his thoughts.  She rode him slowly, making a small figure eight with her hips, just the way he liked it, and she knew it.  When the need for more came over him, Dean rolled her gently, his hips pumping at a steady pace, her soft moans and his harsh breathing the only sound in the quiet room.  Her body was comfort to him, he knew the feel of it, how to make her arch and gasp, the way her thighs would squeeze him closer when he'd hit a particularly good angle.

Lost in the moment, he came first, reaching down to massage her sweet spot until she arched underneath him, coming with a sharp cry that lapsed into a breathy laugh.  Dean pulled out and tossed the condom, sliding her into his arms and basking in the post orgasm high.  They shared warmth and breath, fingers and lips trailing lazily over skin.

“I can't stay tonight,” he mumbled into her neck after a while.  She nodded, her eyes understanding when she looked up at him.

“I didn’t expect you to,” she said simply.  He kissed her cheek, grateful that Lisa wasn't under any illusions about their relationship.  This was about all they were, and they were both okay with that.

“Way to give a guy a complex,” he grunted teasingly anyway.  She laughed, shoving him slightly.

“I know you want to get up early to make pancakes for your brother,” she said with a grin, and he huffed a small laugh, capturing her lips briefly.

“That obvious, huh?” 

“Only a little.”  Her face grew serious.  “You're a good man, Dean.”  He opened his mouth to object but she put her fingers over his lips.  “Let me say this, okay?  I know we’re not  _ us _ , so I know it’s not really my business but… don't let LA change you.”  He kissed her forehead, sliding out of bed and gathering up his clothes.

“I'll do my best,” he sighed, putting on a smile for her benefit.  He got dressed and walked out of her bedroom, sliding on his boots and walking out into the January chill, never looking back.

 

“RISE AND SHINE, SAMMY!” Dean called, blasting ‘Heat of the Moment’ on his phone right next to Sam’s ear.  His brother woke up with a shout, throwing his pillow at Dean.

“Dude what the fuck?!” he groaned.  Dean laughed, turning the music off and tossing his pillow back at him.

“Watch your language, Samantha.  Come on, breakfast.”  He turned and walked back downstairs, Ellen and Bobby giving him patented ‘parent’ looks over their coffee.  Dean shrugged, returning to the stove and finishing off the bacon.  Jo walked downstairs just before Sam, fresh from the shower.

“Left some hot water for you this time, Sam,” she said brightly, which translates to  _ good luck in a cold shower. _  Sam sneered at her.

“Thanks,  _ princess. _ ”

“Alright, ya idjits, settle down and eat your breakfast,” Bobby grunted.  Dean sat a serving platter out of his famous pancakes, his mom’s secret recipe, and a heaping pile of bacon.

“There's a small stack of bacon on the edge for you, Jo, since you like yours undercooked,” Dean said with a shudder.  She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Sorry for liking chewy bacon, not that burnt, crispy crap.”  

The banter continued through breakfast, like it did most mornings in the Singer house, but once the plates were cleared, a different mood settled over the group.  Dean’s things were packed in the Impala, he was on his way out the door.  

“Why don't you guys go wash up,” Ellen said, pushing the stacked plates in front of Jo and Sam.  For the first time Dean could remember, they didn't complain, just wordlessly grabbed the dishes and walked into the kitchen.  

“Come here,” Bobby said to Dean, standing and walking towards his study.  Dean stood to follow, getting a wink from Ellen.  Bobby dropped into one of the oversized armchairs, gesturing for Dean to do the same.

“What's up, Bobby?” Dean asked.  He'd known the man basically his whole life, he could tell when he was building up to something.

“I'm not one for words, Dean, they ain't never been my strongest quality.  I'm not going to give you some big speech, I'm not going to give you advice.  You gotta decide for yourself who and what you're going to be.”  He reached over onto the end table, picking up an old leather bound journal.  “This here was your dad’s.  Fancied himself a writer of sorts, before Mary…”  Bobby trailed off and simply held out the book and Dean took it, forcing his hand to stay steady.  He flipped it open and, tucked into the pocket on the front cover, was a picture of his dad and his mom from when they were his age.  A few pictures of him and Sam were tucked in there as well, and Dean turned his attention to the handwriting on the first sheet of paper.  His dad’s.

 

_ ‘I've been through hell.  Literal hell.  Nothing can give back the time I lost in the war, nothing can make me unsee what I saw.  But I look at Mary, and I look at this blank notebook she's given me.  A new start, a fresh one.  Tabla Rasa.’ _

 

Dean blinks furiously at the moisture in his eyes.  “Thanks, Bobby.”  Bobby just nods and when they stand up Dean wraps him in a brief, but tight hug.  He makes his way to the foyer, sliding the journal in his duffle that's waiting by the door.  Ellen walks up and wraps him up tight.

“Now you best call, text, whatever.  Let us know where you're at and you're alright.”

“I will,” Dean promised.  Jo jumped on his back, wrapping her arms and legs around him tightly.  “Okay, spider monkey, you're choking me,” Dean laughed.  She let go, wiping at her eyes and glaring at him, daring him to call her out on her crying.  Dean turned to Sam, who  _ was  _ crying, and found he was having difficulty swallowing around the lump in his throat.  He handed Sam the strap for his bag.  “Help me with this, huh?”  Sam nodded, following Dean out the door and down to where the Impala was waiting.

“You’ve got Castiel’s book right?” Sam asked, dropping Dean’s bag in the front seat.  Dean nodded.

“I'll make sure I take notes as I go, send you my analysis,” Dean joked.  Sam chuckled, then without warning launched himself at Dean, squeezing him tightly.  “Easy, brother, I got you,” Dean sighed.

“Every other Sunday, you promised to Skype me,” Sam said into Dean’s shoulder.  Dean nodded, patting Sam firmly on the back and stepping back.

“Every other Sunday,” Dean promised again.  Sam wiped at his eyes as he turned and hurried back to the house, and Dean fought the urge to follow.  Dean waved at Ellen, Bobby, and Jo who were standing on the porch and climbed into his Impala, driving away from his home.

He had to pull over just before getting on the interstate, resting his head on the steering wheel and forcing himself to breathe.

He was doing it, he was really leaving, driving off into the unknown like some goddamned start to a movie.  He swallowed down his fear and his tears, grabbing a random mixtape out of his box and shoving it in the player, pulling back out onto the road and heading for the highway.

 


	2. 2. Don't Threaten Me With A Good Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean prepares to settle into his new life, and comes to find that whatever image he'd expected of his boss may not be entirely accurate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish to preface this chapter with a disclaimer: I don't know ANYTHING about being a personal assistant, I am literally pulling the parameters of Dean's job out of my butt and using them how they best fit my story. Sorry for any and all inaccuracies. Also I'd like to inform you guys that I've never been to LA. *shrugs* Oh well.
> 
> So I know I said 2-3 weeks for updates, but 215 of you guys have already read this, and I got so many positive comments that I couldn't help but finish edits on Ch 2. So here you go, a bit early. DONT GET USED TO IT lol XD 
> 
> Thank you so much for all the positive feedback. Enjoy!

**Ch 2- Don't Threaten Me With A Good Time**

 

_ Alright, alright, Alright, alright _ _   
_ _ Alright, alright, it's a hell of a feeling though _ _   
_ _ It's a hell of a feeling though _ _   
_ _ Alright, alright, it's a hell of a feeling though _ _   
_ _ It's a hell of a feeling though _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Who are these people? _ _   
_ _ I just woke up in my underwear _ _   
_ _ No liquor left on the shelf _ _   
_ _ I should probably introduce myself _ _   
_ _ You shoulda seen what I wore _ _   
_ _ I had a cane and a party hat _ _   
_ _ I was the king of this hologram _ _   
_ _ Where there's no such thing as getting out of hand _ _   
_ _ Memories tend to just pop up _ _   
_ _ Drunk pre-meds and some rubber gloves _ _   
_ _ Five-thousand people with designer drugs _ _   
_ _ Don't think I'll ever get enough _ _   
_ _ (Don't think I'll ever get enough!) _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Champagne, cocaine, gasoline _ _   
_ _ And most things in between _ _   
_ _ I roam the city in a shopping cart _ _   
_ _ A pack of camels and a smoke alarm _ _   
_ _ This night is heating up, raise hell and turn it up _ _   
_ _ Saying, "If you go out you might pass out in a drain pipe." _ _   
_ _ Oh, yeah, Don't threaten me with a good time _ _   
_ _   
_ _ It's a hell of a feeling though _ _   
_ _ It's a hell of a feeling though _ _   
_ _ Alright, alright _ _   
_ _ It's a hell of a feeling though _ _   
_ _ It's a hell of a feeling though _ _   
_ _   
_ _ What are these footprints? _ _   
_ _ They don't look very human like _ _   
_ _ Now I wish that I could find my clothes _ _   
_ _ Bed sheets and a morning rose _ _   
_ _ I wanna wake up _ _   
_ _ Can't even tell if this is a dream _ _   
_ _ How did we end up in my neighbor's pool _ _   
_ _ Upside down with a perfect view? _ _   
_ _ Bar to bar at the speed of sound _ _   
_ _ Fancy feet dancing through this town _ _   
_ _ Lost my mind in a wedding gown _ _   
_ _ Don't think I'll ever get it now _ _   
_ _ (don't think I'll ever get it now) _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Champagne, cocaine, gasoline _ _   
_ _ And most things in between _ _   
_ _ I roam the city in a shopping cart _ _   
_ _ A pack of camels and a smoke alarm _ _   
_ _ This night is heating up, raise hell and turn it up _ _   
_ _ Saying, "If you go out you might pass out in a drain pipe." _ _   
_ _ Oh, yeah, Don't threaten me with a good time _ _   
_ _   
_ _ I'm a scholar and a gentleman _ _   
_ _ And I usually don't fall when I try to stand _ _   
_ _ I lost a bet to a guy in a Chiffon skirt _ _   
_ _ But I make these high heels work _ _   
_ _ I've told you time and time again _ _   
_ _ I'm not as think as you drunk I am _ _   
_ _ And we all fell down when the sun came up _ _   
_ _ I think we've had enough _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Alright, alright, it's a hell of a feeling though _ _   
_ _ It's a hell of a feeling though _ _   
_ _ Alright, alright, it's a hell of a feeling though _ _   
_ _ It's a hell of a feeling though _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Champagne, cocaine, gasoline _ _   
_ _ And most things in between _ _   
_ _ I roam the city in a shopping cart _ _   
_ _ A pack of camels and a smoke alarm _ _   
_ _ This night is heating up, raise hell and turn it up _ _   
_ _ Saying, "If you go out you might pass out in a drain pipe." _ _   
_ _ Oh, yeah _ _   
_ __ Don't threaten me with a good time

-*-*-*-

 

Dean made a good sized dent in the 1500 miles he had between Lawrence and LA on the first leg of his trip, driving as far as he could before he felt his eyes get too heavy.  He wanted to put enough distance between himself and home that he’d pass the halfway point, and it wouldn’t make sense to go back.  He Skyped with Sam for an hour or so, the rest of the household chiming in on the conversation before Sam insisted Dean get some sleep.  He spent another half an hour arguing with himself about Sam being a fucking  _ adult  _ now and not needing Dean hovering over him constantly.  

He dug out his dad’s journal, skimming through the first few pages.  The poems were dark, but at the end of each one, there was a note of hope, because Mary was in his life.  It was a side of his dad Dean hadn't really gotten to see, the softer side fading once his mother had died.  Seeing this, how much his father had loved his mother, Dean had a newfound understanding of how  _ badly  _ Mary's death had fucked up his father’s world.  Some things just made more sense as an adult.

He drifted off eventually, too exhausted to keep thinking.  

 

Waking up in that hotel room alone the next morning made him feel his brother’s distance that much more.  He shot him a few texts before finding the nearest and greasiest breakfast and climbing back in the Impala.

Dean made just as good time the second day as he had the first, and pulled over at a rest stop just outside the suburbs to message Charlie that he’d be arriving sooner than expected.  Charlie messaged back and told Dean he’d wait at the office for a couple hours past close to meet him and help him get situated.  He made the last leg of the trip, staring like a tourist at LA as he approached the  _ Guardian Angels  _ office, blinking in amazement at the  _ size  _ of the building the office was in, starting to feel a little out of his depth.  He’d expected a whole lot of differences, but just the sheer size of the city was enough to show Dean he really had no idea what he was getting himself into.  He breathed a little easier when he noticed the attached garage; no way was he parking Baby out in the street in this town.  Dean pulled up to the security gate, handing the guard his ID.

“I’m here to meet someone from Guard-” he barely said before the guard had checked his ID against a list and shoved it back in his face.

“Temporary parking is on level one, no more than 2 hours,” the guard sighed lazily, raising the bar for Dean to enter.  Dean drove through the parking lot, finding a spot easily since most people had gone home for the day.  He navigated the building slowly, following the signs to the lobby without getting lost.  He sent Charlie a text as he walked in, finding a seat in one of the weird art deco chairs, the security guard at the check in desk barely giving him a cursory glance.  

“Dean!  You made it!” came a distinctly  _ feminine  _ voice from the elevators.  Dean turned to see a short redheaded girl, dressed in a Star Wars t shirt and jeans, bright red chucks squeaking as she hurried towards him.   _ Was this Charlie’s assistant, or coworker? _

“Yeah, traffic was a bitch but I’m here,” he chuckled awkwardly, freezing as she hugged him in greeting instead of a handshake or something equally professional.  She must have noticed his discomfort because she released him quickly and stepped back, smiling at him brightly.

“Sorry!  With all of our email discussions and messages, I feel like I know you already.”   _ Wait, our emails? _

“Charlie?” he asked.  She nodded, bowing with a flourish.

“In the flesh!” she said brightly, and Dean couldn’t stop the embarrassed laugh from bursting out of him.

“Shit, I walked myself right into that,” he laughed, rubbing his neck.  She frowned at him, curiosity in her eyes.  “I um, I thought you were a dude,” he muttered, “you know the whole ‘my girlfriend’ comments, and our similar interests.”  He gestured vaguely at her shirt, and her eyes widened comically.

“Oh!  Because I never got to talk to you over the phone!  I’m sorry!” she gasped, like she herself had just figured out she was a woman.  Dean couldn’t quite tell if she was making fun of him, but he liked to think she wouldn’t do that.  “Charlie is short for Charlene,” she explained, “and as far as my girlfriend goes, Dot is excited to meet you as well.”  Dean barely had time to process that his liaison was a lesbian before Charlie was bouncing to the guard’s desk.  Dean scrambled to follow, hoping his blush wasn't too obvious.  “Okay, so boring formalities: give Gus here your ID and he’ll set you up with a clearance card to enter the parking lot and the building.”  Dean pulled his license out and handed it over, the guard raising an eyebrow at him.

“Country boy, huh?” he asked in reference to Dean’s Kansas ID.  Dean didn't  _ consider  _ himself ‘country’, but then he looked at the way he was dressed in his flannel and boots, and his mind drifted to the Roadhouse… Okay maybe a  _ little  _ country.  

“Small town America,” was all he managed to get out, earning a stifled little giggle from Charlie.  The guard punched some information into the computer and gestured for Dean to step in front of a camera, snapping the picture before he had a chance to ask if he should smile or not.  As the machine hummed away printing his card, the guard handed Dean his ID back, looking at Charlie curiously. 

“So this is Mr. Novak’s replacement gopher?” he asked her.  Dean tried not to feel nervous at his tone, like he knew a million things Dean did not.  Charlie nodded and the guard smirked at Dean as he handed him his new badge.  “Good luck.”

“Don't listen to him, Gus is an insufferable pessimist sometimes,” Charlie snapped quickly, grabbing hold of Dean’s hand and pulling him towards the elevator.  She slid an iPad mini out of her purse, tapping and scrolling through something.  “Okay, you’ve got some paperwork to fill out, t’s to cross, i’s to dot and such.  Once you’re finished with that we’ll head over to your apartment and get you settled, how's that sound?”  She beamed up at him, full of excitement and genuine innocence, and some of his misgivings faded.

“Sounds like a plan,” he agreed with a sigh.  The elevator let them off at their floor, and she walked a little slower towards the big office door with  _ Guardian Angels  _ written across the glass in flowery script.

“A bit overwhelmed?” she asked quietly, holding the door for him.  He nodded, feeling the heat in his cheeks.

“How could you tell?” he chuckled at his own expense.  She gave him a sympathetic smile.

“I totally get you, I do.  It’s a big place, and I’m sure there’s going to be some culture shock for you.”  She led him past a line of six desks, all vacant at this time of night, and into a back office with  _ C. Bradbury  _ written on the nameplate.  She flipped on the light switch and gestured for Dean to sit on the couch in front of her desk, which was taking up the space where chairs would normally go.  As a matter of fact, as she shuffled through papers on her not so tidy desk, Dean admired how  _ informal  _ her office was compared to the desks out front.  Harry Potter, Doctor Who, Star Wars, and Lord of the Rings memorabilia was scattered all over the place, and the actual office supplies were hidden behind pictures of Charlie with people he assumed were her family and friends.  Dean  _ finally  _ felt himself relax.

“Well, with you helping me, I’m sure I’ll get my feet underneath myself quickly,” he said with a smile.  She perked up, punching Dean in the arm as she walked up with a stack of papers.

“Did we just become best friends?” she laughed.  Dean shrugged.

“Guess it doesn’t hurt,” he chuckled, though his smile quickly faded at the paperwork she laid in his lap.

“Take your time, read everything, and if you have any questions let me know, I’m going to be working on some emails,” she said, dropping down in front of her computer.  Dean scrubbed his hand over his face and settled into the couch.  Charlie flipped on some music, and Dean smiled when he recognized the Star Wars theme leaving the speakers.  He’ll say this for John Williams, his music made filling out paperwork that much more epic. 

Most of it was basic boring stuff, demographic information, basic work history, emergency contact information.  He marveled at his boring life, checking all the  _ no’s  _ in the criminal background boxes, and agreed to be fingerprinted.  He came to a form asking for medical information, and as he filled out  _ cats  _ in the allergy box, he made his way down to the next question and paused, shifting uncomfortably on the couch.   _ Have you ever had/ do you currently have any form of STD?  _  He was clean, he’d been tested when he made his last round of doctor appointments before leaving, but the fact that the question was on there made him slightly uneasy.  Why would his job need to know that information?  What could he possibly be asked to do that would risk transmission of a possible STD?

“You okay over there?” Charlie asked, turning away from her computer.  Dean felt the blush on his cheeks.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he mumbled.  Charlie smiled knowingly.

“Get to the medical history bit?” she asked.  He flushed deeper and he knew she had her answer.  Her smile softened, reassuringly.  “Because you’ll be living with him, Mr. Novak asks that his PA give that information-”

“Wait, what?!” Dean practically yelps, cutting her off abruptly.  She seemed taken aback, like she was surprised he didn’t know this rather important bit of information.

“Your apartment.  Mr. Novak had the basement level of his house converted into a fully functional apartment for his PA, so you’re readily available while he’s working,” she explained.  He just stared at her, unblinking, and he was sure he looked ridiculous but he definitely hadn’t been expecting that.  “Did you not read the whole contract?” she asked, a small nervous flutter in her voice.  Dean pulled the contract that he’d shuffled to the end of the stack out of the pile of papers in his lap, skimming through until he found his living arrangements.

_...Due to the nature of Mr. Novak’s work, which primarily takes place in his residence, to make travel easier on his assistant, and to reduce stress on both parties, a portion of Mr. Novak’s residence has been converted into a private living area for his assistant, until such time as the assistant either moves out on their own or their employment is terminated… _

“Son of a bitch,” Dean sighed.  Charlie immediately looks worried.

“We can figure something else out, if you want, I can put in a few calls, pull some strings.  You’ll have to stay there for a few days, but I should be able to find you something quickly-”

“It’s okay,” Dean sighed, cutting off her ranting.  Yeah it was unexpected, but in its own way there was a logic behind it, and if he hated it he could always find an apartment once he’d gotten some money in his account.  “It just sort of surprised me, is all,” Dean reassured her.  “I’ll be fine.”  She set her phone down that she’d grabbed while rambling, tension leaving her shoulders.  He took a couple deep breaths and continued with his paperwork, making sure he read  _ everything  _ this time.  Luckily, that seemed to be the only detail he had skimmed over the first time, the rest of the contract was exactly how he’d remembered Ezekiel explaining it to him.

His eyes felt like they were going to fall out of his skull by the time he handed Charlie the stack of papers, rubbing at his temples to try and ease the tired headache coming on.  Charlie paused, looking him over.

“I’ll file this tomorrow, let’s get you unpacked and fed,” she insisted, setting Dean’s information in her desk and locking it up.  At the mention of food Dean’s stomach murmured it’s agreement to Charlie’s plan, and he followed her out of the stuffy office building, Charlie waving goodbye to Gus as they walked by.  When they got to the garage, Dean pulled his keys out of his pocket.

“So am I following you, or…?” he asked.  She looked at him blankly for a moment before realizing what Dean was asking.

“Oh, I don’t have a car, I was going to ride with you and give directions, if that’s alright?”  Her nerves about overstepping showed on her face, but Dean just huffed a laugh.  It seemed that personal space was going to be something he’d have to get over while working here.

“It’s fine, Charlie, this way,” he sighed, walking over to his Impala, the only car left in the lot.  He heard Charlie gasp behind him, and a hand reach out and grab hold of his arm.

“You drove here from Kansas in  _ that _ ?” she blurted.  For the first time, Dean felt a coldness towards Charlie.

“Baby and I have been on a million road trips, she always gets me where I need to go,” he said defensively.

“No!  I meant… you must put a lot of work into her, she’s  _ pristine, _ ” Charlie gasps, and when Dean hears the awe in her voice he may or may not puff up with pride.

“Just wait till you feel her on the road,” Dean boasts with a wink.

The drive out to where Mr. Novak lives isn’t far, but with the amount of traffic Dean was certain they’d never get there.  As Charlie directs him through turns and streets Dean has no  _ hope  _ of remembering, she tells him every time they pass a point of interest, things like who owns what house, or what picture was taken where.  Some of it Dean recognizes, and some of the people she’s talking about he’s never heard of, the memory of Sam’s teasing voice popping up in his head again.  The high security walls that surrounded almost every property they drove by were kind of daunting, not to mention the strict security at the gate to the neighborhood Charlie finally directed them to.  She handed over her ID, and Dean did the same, the guard checking them on a list and lifting the gate for them.

“You’ll get a scan card, since you’ll be living here, that way you don’t have to go through the guard every time,” Charlie explained.  Dean continued into the neighborhood, trying not to gawk too much at the houses as they drove by.  They were fucking  _ massive,  _ two and three story mansions with ornate landscaping and driveways, half of them fenced in even in this sealed community.  “You’re more than welcome to use your car if you want, but Mr. Novak has a driver if you’d like to go somewhere and you’re worried about getting lost.”

“A hired driver?” Dean asked, feeling weird just thinking about it.  

“Or if you’re headed into the city,” Charlie continued, totally missing Dean’s discomfort.  “Benny is pretty laid back, so if you’re prone to road rage you can call him.  Pull in over there, the black and white one,” Charlie said, pointing to a strange modern looking house.  It was two stories, not as tall as some of the other ones, but it was all strange angles and tall windows, shades pulled down over them for privacy.  A garage ran down towards the right side of the driveway loop, and as Dean pulled into the driveway, Charlie pulled a garage door opener out of her purse, opening the door closest to the house for Dean to park in.  She hooked the opener to Dean’s car visor as he pulled into the slot, turning off the Impala and climbing out of the car.

“Rich people, man,” Dean sighed, eyeing the two other cars in the garage, covered with cloth tarps.  “Why own two cars if you’re going to have someone drive you around all the time?”  Charlie gave him a look that said she knew more than she was letting on, but let the question go unanswered.

“Need help with your bags?” she asked instead.  Dean shook his head, popping the trunk and pulling out the two large suitcases and his overstuffed large duffle.

“I can manage.”  She just looked at him for a moment, like she was expecting him to grab more things out of the trunk, her eyes widening when he shut the trunk instead.  He tried not to feel self conscious about all his worldly possessions fitting into three bags, but in this setting, he felt even more culture shocked and out of place than he had all day.  He set his jaw, hoping none of his insecurity would show on his face as he gestured for Charlie to lead the way.  She snapped out of her daze before her eyes grew pitying, pulling a set of keys out of her pocket and handing them over.

“The large one is for the main house, but only for use with permission from Mr. Novak and in emergencies.  The smaller blue key is to your apartment.”  He followed her as she led him out the back door on the garage, following a walkway down the hill to the right side of the house.  As they walked towards the modern two story, Dean’s sense of unease increased.  It was almost like this house was clean, and him wandering in would make it dirty, or less than it was somehow just because he was there.  A small light had been installed on the wall in front of what could pass for a regular front door, and he realized this was his apartment.  He used the blue key and swung the door open, hand feeling for a switch on the wall and flipping it on.

He nearly dropped all his bags at what he saw when the lights came up.

“This is…” he gasped, trailing off.  The door had opened into a large room, completely carpeted and furnished like a normal apartment, earth tones of brown, green, and blue dominating the space.  A 40” TV stood in front of the plush sectional, an assortment of electronics on the stand below it.  A half wall divider split the small kitchen from the rest of the living area, and there were two open doors to the left of the main room.  Dean tugged his bags into motion, peering into one of the rooms that turned out to be the bathroom, eyes widening at finding a huge walk in shower and an equally huge clawed bathtub, with a stacked washer and dryer tucked in behind the door.  He moved to the next door, a bedroom that was easily twice the size of the room he and Sam shared, a queen sized bed, a walk in closet, and a desk that had a laptop sitting on it.  

Dean set down his bags in the center of the bedroom floor, taking deep breaths and trying to wrap his head around  _ how much money  _ this whole setup cost.  This used to be a basement, and now it was built up and insulated like an actual apartment.  He slowly walked out into the living room, looking over to see Charlie waiting in his kitchen, typing away on her phone.  She looked up when he walked out of the room, smiling and pointing at another door across from his bedroom door.

“That door opens to the staircase leading up to the main house, but again, only for use in emergencies or with Mr. Novak’s express permission.”  Dean walked out to the kitchen to join her, opening the fridge, surprised to find it stocked already.  “You've got some basic groceries, though I don't know what you prefer to eat so there's not too much.”  Charlie opened the pantry which also had some food in it. “Some eggs and bacon, milk, OJ, pasta and sauce, and some other odds and ends.”  She dug around in one of the drawers, pulling out an envelope.  “Here’s your startup bonus, to get the rest of your groceries and some clothes, Mr. Novak prefers everyone dress business casual.”  She handed him the envelope, and he made a pointed look at her Star Wars shirt.  She shrugged, a mischievous smirk on her face.  “What?  I was technically off the clock when you got here,” she explained.  Dean laughed as he pulled the check out of the envelope, then choked on air.

_ $3500? _

_ The hell was he going to spend all that money on?! _

“Charlie, this is too much,” Dean finally sighed.  For the first time all afternoon, she looked genuinely scared.  “The apartment, the money, I mean, do all PA’s get this much out here?!”  He wasn't special, hell, he hadn't had any clients that asked him to do all that much outside of picking up dry cleaning.  If he was getting some kind of preferential treatment, it was going to stop, now.

“Well, not always, but in special cases they can.  It depends on the difficulty of the client, the level of celebrity, the desperation of the PA firm.”  She trailed off, nibbling her lip like she was trying to make up her mind about something.

“What are you not telling me?” Dean asked, leaning into her field of vision, and she shifted guiltily.

“Mr. Novak is...a unique employer,” Charlie said slowly.  When Dean crossed his arms over his chest, fixing her with a stern look, she crumbled, her hand nervously pulling at the hem of her shirt.  “Look, I'll be honest, we've had some issues with turnover when it comes to Mr. Novak,” she admitted.  “People tend to just… leave.”

“Why?” Dean wondered.  

“I'm not sure,” Charlie looked downright fearful, “they just hand in their resignation and go after a few weeks.  Dean, please, I've been looking all over the country for  _ weeks  _ now trying to find the right fit for Mr. Novak, and I really think you’re it.  Just... have an open mind?”  He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.  She looked so genuinely worried, he chuckled, smiling reassuringly.

“Fine, an open mind it is,” he sighed.  She grinned, relaxing visibly and pointing to a piece of paper on his fridge.

“A list of numbers and contact information to store in your phone, Mr. Novak’s favorite places to eat, shop, his personal trainer, and so on.  Mr. Novak is out of town until Friday so that gives you four days to acclimate yourself to the area.  Again, Benny can get you wherever you need to go, just give him a call.”  She opened her arms, like she was waiting for Dean to applaud her or something.

“Thanks, Charlie,” he said tiredly.  “I think I'm gonna eat something and just crash.”  She nodded in understanding, giving him another hug and bouncing towards his front door.

“Alright, call me if you need me!” she said cheerfully, shutting the door behind her as she put her phone to her ear to call someone.

The silence she left in her wake was deafening.

Dean stood in the kitchen for a while, unsure of what to do with himself, just looking around at the luxury apartment that used to be someone’s basement. 

_ How is this my life right now? _

He explored the kitchen, throwing together a quick meal, noting what utensils and supplies were there, making a list in his notes app of what else he might want.  As he ate, he added the contacts into his phone, putting a note next to each one with what they did along with the person’s name.  Once he'd eaten and cleaned up his dishes, he made his way to the living room, looking around.  There was a PS4 and a cable box hooked to the TV, and a small card on the tv stand under the remotes explained how to hook up to the wifi, which he proceeded to do on his phone.  The rest of the living room was fairly bare, which made sense, since this wasn't a real home for people for very long, and he made note of some places he could put up the family pictures he'd brought with him.

Unpacking his things came next, and in spite of Charlie’s comment about him needing clothes, he had a decent amount of respectable clothing already, which he hung in the closet, making note of the ironing board tucked away on a shelf in there.  He threw his underwear and socks in the dresser, his sweats and jeans filling the other two drawers.  He hung up all his tshirts and over shirts, since there wasn't room in the dresser, and tucked his now empty suitcases away in the back of the closet.  He pulled his old laptop from his duffle, setting it next to the one waiting on the desk for him, unpacking his few favorite books he'd brought and setting them up on the shelves on the desk.  Carefully, he removed his photo frames, pictures of his family and friends back home, setting the Roadhouse crew photos on his dresser, the framed pictures of his parents and him and Sam going to the bedside table, along with his dad’s journal and Mr. Novak’s book.  The handful of other pictures went out in the living room, and then the empty duffel was tucked in the closet with the suitcases.

That was it, aside from the bathroom bag in his hand, Dean had moved in.  

He walked into the bathroom, unpacking his toiletries, looking through the cabinets.  There was a decent sized stack of towels and washcloths in the linen closet, he had a decently stocked first aid kit, the basic medicines like ibuprofen and Pepto, and an all in one Old Spice shampoo and body wash.  It was enough for the night, so he showered and got ready for bed.

He glanced at his computer, but he was too tired for a Skype call.  He texted Sam instead, realizing that after it sent it was close to 11:15pm back home.

_ You: I'm all settled in, I'll send you some pictures of the apartment tomorrow. _

He sank into the bed, a groan of pure comfort escaping him as the memory foam molded to his body.  Dean didn't think he'd be tired enough to fall asleep in a strange bed, but between the drive and the amount of information he had to absorb, he fell asleep almost immediately.

  
  


_ It was the heat of the moment _

Dean sat up way too fast, waking up with a start.

_ Telling me what your heart meant _

He groaned, grabbing for his phone, unable to find it quickly in the unfamiliar bedroom.

_ The heat of the moment shone in your eyes _

He finally found his phone and shut off his alarm, grumbling as he fell back on his pillow, now wide awake.  He hadn't used his alarm since leaving home, so he hadn't found the gift Sam had left him in the form of his ringtone.  Dean pulled up his text messages, shooing his brother a quick note.

_ You: I fucking hate you sometimes _

He'd stumbled to the bathroom to pee and was halfway through brushing his teeth when his phone buzzed with a response.

_ Sam: You know you love Asia. _

_ Sam: PS- payback’s a bitch. _

Dean shook his head, smiling in spite of himself as he walked back to his room and got dressed, pulling his favorite red long sleeve shirt over a black t shirt, grabbing a pair of well fitted khakis.

Wearing the business casual clothes, he slipped into his work state of mind, focusing in on his task.  Walking to the kitchen, he set the coffee brewing, throwing together something to eat.  Dean went down the list of contacts that Charlie had given him, checking off the restaurants and focusing on the professional correspondents.  He wanted to introduce himself before he officially started, get a feel for the people he’d be working with before his boss was there looking over his shoulder.  

_ Publisher, publicist, editor, lawyer, agent. _  Dean ran through the list over and over in his head, matching the names to the jobs as he ate his breakfast.  Since he had  _ no  _ idea how to get anywhere, he called the number Charlie had left for Benny once he'd finished eating.

“This is Benny,” came a creole drawl over the phone.

“Uh, hi, I'm Dean-”

“Dean, Novak’s new PA right?” he chuckled.  “Charlie warned me you might call.”

“Uh, yeah,” Dean laughed.  “I was hoping to get a ride to some places?”

“Say no more,” Benny said.  “I'll be there in a few, you just sit tight.”

“Thanks.”  Dean hung up the phone and brushed his teeth to get the coffee off his breath.  He took a couple deep breaths, pulling on his semi dress shoes and his blazer.  It wasn't as cold as it was in Kansas, but it was mild enough for the jacket.  There was a knock at the door, and Dean answered to see a man there, just about his height but built a bit stockier, a scruff of a beard on his face and a smile in his eyes.

“Dean, pleasure to meet you,” he drawled, offering a hand, nearly breaking Dean’s when he shook it.  The southern accent was more pronounced in person, and the fact that Benny was dressed just as casual as he was helped Dean relax.

“Benny, hi.  Hear you're the man to talk to about getting around out here.”  Benny shrugged.

“Know my way here and there.”  They turned, Dean locking his door behind them, and started walking up the hill to the SUV Benny had pulled into the driveway.  “So Dean, you wanna do the full tourist gauntlet?” Benny asked.

“No, actually, I-uh, was hoping to go see some of Mr. Novak’s regulars, introduce myself,” Dean said, gesturing open handed at the car.  Benny shrugged and nodded, unlocking the doors.

“Alright then, down to business,” he hummed, walking around to the driver side.  Dean hesitated before climbing in, unsure of which seat to ride in.  The front passenger window rolled down, and Benny laughed at Dean.  “I may be a hired driver, but there's no need to be formal when the boss ain't around, hop in the front.”  Dean climbed in the front seat, and Benny pulled away from the house, passing by the gate guard with a wave.

As they drove, Dean asked questions about working with Benny as Mr. Novak’s driver, how to tell him about his schedule, how early to call him for pick ups, and other notes about traffic in the area.  When they pulled up to a stop light, Dean noticed a couple younger girls taking a picture of the car, specifically of him, before the light changed and they pulled away.  Dean's utter confusion must have shown on his face because Benny started to chuckle.

“Get used to it.  You're a handsome devil, they assume anyone who looks like you must be famous for something in this town.  Specially in a car like this.”  Dean felt the heat in his cheeks.

“That's only slightly uncomfortable,” he mumbled.  Benny shrugged.

“It's this place, the glitz and the glamour and all that,” he said, matter of factly.  “What’s your angle, by the way?” Benny asked.  Dean’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“My angle?”

“Yeah, what are you really here for?” Benny asked.  “Acting, music, theater?  Everyone comes to this town looking for something.”  Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“I came here because my old boss found me a good job,” he muttered.  The chuckle from Benny voiced his disbelief.

“Come on, there's gotta be something,” Benny insisted.  “Wanna be a rock star?  Movie star?”  Dean blushed even deeper and shook his head.

“I just need the cash to help my brother out,” Dean insisted.  “I've never wanted fame or anything like that, never really thought about it.  Always too occupied taking care of my family,” Dean explained, feeling very self conscious as Benny looked at him sideways.  

“Huh,” Benny said thoughtfully, pulling over at the first stop on Dean’s list, the publisher’s office.  “You ain't shittin me?  Seriously, this job’s all you're here for?”  Dean nodded, and Benny grinned, clapping Dean on the shoulder.  “Winchester, you are the first person I have ever met that moved here without them stars in their eyes.”  Dean shrugged as he climbed out of the car, and his curiosity spoke up, making him turn before closing the door.

“What about you?” he asked Benny.

“Wait till lunch,” he hummed with a wink.

 

Lunch couldn’t get there fast enough.  One after the other, Dean met with the people that made up Mr. Novak’s main team of professional contacts.  After having five identical conversations, he began to miss the slower pace of Kansas.

_ Hi, I’m Dean Winchester.   _

_ Yes, I’m a small town guy.   _

_ Mr. Novak is strange, huh? _ _ You don't say? _

He practically fell into the SUV after the last meeting, making Benny chuckle.

“You know, this is only day one, and the boss ain’t even here.  Boy, you’ve got to deal with this shitstorm regularly when Novak’s in town.”  Dean had to admit, Benny had a point.  He was going to have to step up his game.

“Please tell me we’re going to eat now,” Dean grunted, buckling up and laying the seat back.  

“Got just the thing,” Benny drawled, whistling a tune as he pulled out onto the highway.  Dean had his eyes closed, running through faces and names over and over, making mental notes about personalities.  As a result, when the car stopped and he sat up, he really had no idea where he was.  The neighborhood wasn’t as touristy as the rest of the city, it felt more like a place where people actually lived.  They were parked in front of a restaurant, a dancing crawfish in an apron on the sign, and a olive skinned woman with long dark hair and a smirk on her face was standing in the doorway.

“Remember you asked me what brought me here?” Benny asked, a smile on his face.  “I had stars in my eyes, trouble is they’re all hers.”  Benny climbed out of the car, and Dean followed suit.  “Cher!” Benny called with a loud laugh.  The woman jogged over and jumped into Benny’s arms, planting a huge kiss on him, and Dean couldn't help but smile.

“Who's your pretty friend?” she asked after her rather friendly hello.

“This is Novak’s new PA, Dean.  Dean this is Andrea,” Benny said, and Andrea leaned in and air kissed each of Dean’s cheeks.

“Let me cook you guys up some lunch, huh?” she said brightly, bouncing back into the restaurant.  

“Best damn gumbo this side of Louisiana,” Benny said, clapping Dean on the back and leading him inside.  The smell was heaven, and Dean’s mouth started to water immediately, the spices and the seafood blending into a heady mixture.  The food lived up to the smell, it was some of the best food Dean had ever eaten.  Sitting around the small table, making small talk about Dean’s job and his brother, he really started feeling more like himself.  Andrea was talking about how she opened up her own restaurant, with Benny’s help, and anyone with two eyes could see they were both head over heels for each other.  By the time lunch was over, Dean had a list of local restaurants to try, and a belly so full he was practically waddling out to the car.

Benny took him back to Mr. Novak’s house, pulling into the drive and shaking Dean’s hand.

“Now, don’t be afraid to call me for a social call either, Dean.  You’re good people, and that’s hard to find in this place.”  

“Sure thing, Benny,” Dean said, smiling slightly.  He let himself into his apartment and wandered into the bedroom with every intention of getting on his work laptop and dealing with his emails, but once he’d kicked off his shoes and removed his khakis and his button up, he didn’t really feel like working anymore.  He caught a glimpse of Mr. Novak’s book on his nightstand, the one Sam had loaned him.   _ Why not?  _  He walked over to his bed, dropping onto the mattress and grabbing the book, settling the pillows against the headboard so he could read.

Dean figured the book would be decent, like the other nerdy books that Sam had read.  He didn’t expect to get lost in the story, not even looking up from the pages until he was halfway through and hungry again.  He checked his phone, surprised to see he’d been reading for over five hours straight.  He had to hand it to him, Novak just had a way with words that sucked him into the story.  Dean had never  _ felt  _ so much when reading a book, had never been pulled into a character’s suffering in the same way before.  He supposed that's what made a good author, finding a way for people to see just a bit of themselves in their writing.  Dean could see himself in the main character, Roan, in his dogged determination to just  _ survive. _

Dean grudgingly admitted that Novak was a genius when it came to writing, there was no doubt about that.  He was starting to get a little excited about meeting him, no matter the odd warnings he kept receiving.  With the intelligence he showed in his writing, he couldn't really be as bad as people kept saying.

He grabbed his phone as he walked out to the kitchen to find dinner, texting with his brother as he made some pasta and veggies.

_ You: Ok, Sam, you got me.  The book is pretty damn good. _

_ Sam: Told you!  Did you finish it? _

_ Dean: Not yet, so don't you dare ruin it for me! _

_ Sam: lol calm down.  Who's your fave so far? _

_ Dean: Roan, I know, cheesy. _

_ Sam: I think mine is Nicolas. _

_ Dean: He's the one that turns out to be the boyfriend, right? _

_ Dean: … _

_ Dean: WAIT DON’T ANSWER THAT _

_ Sam: lolol _

Dean ate his quick dinner, returning to his room to read some more before falling asleep with the book on his chest.

 

Wednesday and Thursday passed almost too quickly for Dean.  He was still getting acclimated to the city and to the multiple layers of his job, meeting with people and sending emails all before he’d even  _ met  _ his boss.  He deposited his bonus, dropping a huge payment on their bills since Sam’s semester was taken care of, and kept a little to fully stock his kitchen and expand his wardrobe somewhat.  On Friday morning, he squeezed in a quick trip to Wal Mart for some of the other odds and ends he needed around the apartment, rushing back afterwards and managing to put everything away with enough time to shower and dress a bit nicer.  Mr. Novak was flying back from a trip to see his family, Charlie’s notes had said, and he wanted to impress him as best he could.

He called Benny with Mr. Novak’s updated arrival time, and per his instructions Mr. Novak was supposed to meet Dean there at the house to go over his schedule for the next week; a couple meetings with his publisher and editor, thankfully, not a whole lot right off the bat.

The meeting time came and went, and Dean was starting to get worried.  Did he miss something?  Was he supposed to be upstairs?  He was just about to call Benny when the phone rang, Charlie’s name showing up on his caller ID.

“Charlie?” he asked.

“Change of plans,” she snipped, sounding annoyed.  “Mr. Novak decided he’d rather head straight for a party tonight than keep up with his obligations.”  

“So-” 

“Benny is on his way to you, I'll meet you there.”  She hung up before Dean could ask her anything.  A party?  Hadn't he just come back from a vacation?  Dean left his apartment, walking up the hill to the driveway to wait for Benny.  It didn't take long, and the black SUV was pulling up in the drive.  Dean climbed in, noticing the less than cheerful look on Benny’s face.

“What's going on?” Dean asked.  “You and Charlie are acting like Mr. Novak shirking responsibility is the end of the world.”  Benny was driving a little faster than normal, focusing on the road.

“How hard did you party back in Kansas?” Benny asked.

“Uh, a kegger at the bar, maybe?” Dean answered, wondering what that had to do with anything.

“Just brace yourself, brother,” Benny hummed quietly.

They pulled up to what looked like an abandoned building, minus the loud pounding house music and the line of people outside one of the doors.  After an ominous ‘good luck’ from Benny, Dean climbed out of the car, walking towards the door where four overly large bouncers were keeping people at bay.  There was a large variety of people there, men and women, some looking as high class and rich as they come, and some that looked homeless.  Pretty, ugly, young, old, Dean had never seen such a huge crosscut of humanity.  As he approached the front of the line, some of the people started to shout, drawing the attention of one of the bouncers.

“End of the line, pretty boy,” the man sneered.  

“I'm uh, I'm not here for the party, I’m Mr. Novak’s PA?” Dean’s cheeks burned slightly from all the pairs of eyes trained on his back, but he refused to face the crowd.  The bouncer narrowed his eyes.

“ID,” he demanded.  Dean scrambled to pull his wallet out of his pocket, and the bouncer snatched the whole thing.  Dean twitched, trying to remain calm.  This guy and his buddies could easily give him a few broken bones, he really didn't want to start anything.  The man checked his ID, nodding as he shoved Dean’s wallet into his chest.

“He's inside, so’s Red.”  

“Th-thank you,” Dean gasped, slipping through the gap the bouncers made for him as the crowd cried out in protest.  He found himself in a narrow, dark hallway, that dead ended at a coat check counter and a locked door.  The guy sitting there looked bored to tears, holding out his hand.

“Phone please,” he sighed.  Dean frowned.

“My phone?”

“Mr. Novak doesn't allow photography devices in his parties.  Phone please,” he repeated, with the air of someone who's said that 2,000,000 times in one night.

“He's with me,” came Charlie’s voice from behind the guy, walking up to the counter and nudging the man out of the way.  Dean sagged with relief at seeing a familiar face, though he was surprised to see her behind the counter.

“Oh, he the new PA?” the guy asked, actually looking at Dean for the first time.

“Yes, Inias, if you would just pay attention to your emails,” Charlie sighed.  She reached past the guy and buzzed Dean in.  “I'll see you on the other side,” she called, scampering away towards what Dean assumed was another door.  Dean pushed through the newly unlocked door, feeling Inias’ eyes on his back, and blinked a few times to let his eyes adjust to the room.

Just like that, all the cryptic warnings about Mr. Novak started to make sense.  Dean may not have any experience in this city, but he was pretty sure that this wasn't necessarily  _ normal  _ for an author.

Every vice Dean had ever heard of, if he looked around long enough he saw it.  Coughing, he peered into the crowd, smoke machines, cigarettes, and something that smelled like pot creating a thick haze.  Dean was 90% sure there were worse drugs being used by some of these people, the utter lack of inhibition as they danced and swayed a bit more intense than alcohol induced freedom.  There were people paired off everywhere, regardless of gender, mostly dancing, some grinding against each other in various states of frenzy and undress, or costumed dress, and to say Dean was overwhelmed was probably the understatement of the century.  

Dean swallowed hard against the nervous pounding of his heart as his eyes adjusted to the light, his gaze drifting around the room, and he saw him, the man from the back cover of the book.  There was a semi raised platform in the center of the entire party, only a small handful of people on it, one of which was his boss, lazily tilting back a cup, watching the woman next to him as she talked and swayed with the music.  

“How are you doing?” Charlie asked from his elbow.  Dean shrugged, unable to really speak, and he knew his tension was obvious.  Charlie nodded towards the platform.  “Just keep your eyes forward, hopefully we’ll be out of here quickly.”  Dean nodded and she led the way through the crowd, navigating the room with surprising skill.  Dean kept his eyes focused on her back, ignoring the cat calls and the offers of drinks, and doing his best to ignore the hands that kept landing on him in some of the most uncomfortable places.  They managed to reach the platform and Dean had all his clothes and didn't smell like beer, so he counted it a success.

“Aw, the party pooper has arrived!” called out the woman who was swaying next to Mr. Novak.  She had black hair, and either from the lights, or from something else, her eyes practically looked black.  Dean was already sweating, he could only imagine how uncomfortable the leather clothes she was wearing would be.

“We were  _ just  _ getting started,” whined the man on the other side of Mr. Novak.  He was British, as far as Dean could tell from his slurred speech, naked from the waist up and a shock of short blonde hair.  Novak, on the other hand, looked completely sober, the mess of dark hair on his head looking like someone's fingers had been tangled in it.  He was lounging on a couch, wearing dark washed jeans that hugged his thighs snugly, an equally tight fitted navy henley leaving nothing to the imagination.  Novak had runner’s thighs, he was lean but not too slim, a dusting of stubble on his cheeks, and Dean had to force himself to break his eyes away.

“Charlie,” Novak sighed with a bored wave once she and Dean had climbed fully up to the platform in front of them.  He didn't even turn his head their way for longer than a moment, tossing back the rest of his drink.

“Mr. Novak, you have an appointment in the morning,” Charlie pointed out.  “And you also have a new employee to meet,” she added.  The group on the platform all seemed to focus in on Dean at once, and he felt his cheeks flush.  Novak’s eyes ran over him once, appraisingly, before a giggle distracted Novak’s eyes to the woman next to him.

“He's a  _ pretty  _ one, Charlie!” black haired girl purred.  She jumped on Dean, arms around his neck and legs around his waist, and Dean stumbled.  He barely managed to stay upright, his arms hanging awkwardly at his sides, unsure of where else to put them.  “Oooh, so  _ firm,”  _ she giggled, a hand squeezing his upper arm tightly.

“Meg,” Novak called.  She pouted, making sure she slid off of Dean in the  _ most  _ provocative way possible.  Luckily for Dean he was too overwhelmed for his body to react.

“Fine.  Pretty face like that, he's probably gay anyway,” she huffed, the look in her eyes saying she'd change Dean’s mind if he was.  

“No thanks, done with your sloppy seconds,” the British man said, turning his attention to a young guy making heart eyes at him from the crowd.  Novak stood up from the couch, steady on his feet, stretching his arms over his head to reveal perfectly sculpted hips under the hem of his shirt.

“Don't leave us,” Meg whined at Novak, running her fingers over said hips.  Dean could feel the heat in his cheeks, but he was unable to look away from the strange PDA.  Novak dropped his arms, one of them resting around her shoulders.

“Red’s right, Dick’s called for me,” he drawled, sounding almost bored.  Dean frowned slightly; Mr. Roman, Novak’s editor, was a handful, but the way Novak put emphasis on his name hinted at some underlying anger.  Dean logged that away for later.

“Darling, if it's  _ dick  _ you're after...” the British man smirked at his own joke, and Novak shot him a wink.

“Don't threaten me with a good time,” he laughed darkly, the corners of his mouth hardly turning up.  With a heavy sigh, Novak bowed slightly to the British man.  “Balthazar, I leave the party in your hands.”  Meg jumped on Novak in the same way she had with Dean, and Dean watched in stunned shock as Novak grabbed her ass to hold her up, planting a huge wet kiss on her.  When he let Meg down, the blonde man -Balthazar- stood and Novak kissed him in the same way.

And Dean just stood there, awkward and silent, trying not to run out of the room in a panicked hurry.  He felt  _ dirty,  _ and he was taking the longest shower of his life when he got home.

“Lead the way,” Novak said to Charlie, not even looking at Dean.  Dean was too relieved they were actually leaving to care.

This time the crowd parted for them, some of the people watching Novak walk by in slight awe.  Novak would spare a glance for some, he would smile at others, and sometimes he would touch an outstretched hand.  Dean watched him as he moved, confidence in his shoulders and his step, the kind of swagger that screamed ‘look at me’.  Dean had never had that kind of confidence.  He had enough to know he could do his job, and he was good at it, and he had enough to know he was attractive, but that was it, not much more than that.  Novak’s every pore oozed a sense of self assurance that had Dean feeling a bit jealous.

They slipped out a side door, Benny waiting there with the SUV, and once they were outside in fresh air, Dean let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

“See you later, Charlie,” Novak said, climbing in the backseat of Benny’s car.  Charlie ran her hand soothingly down Dean’s arm.

“You survived,” she reassured him.  Dean ran his hand through his hair, looking back at the door they'd just walked out of.

“Does this happen often?  Are these...parties...always like this?” he asked in a whisper.  Charlie pressed her lips together, sympathy in her eyes.

“More than I'd like, and yeah, this was pretty much the norm.  Sometimes they can get worse, sometimes they're calmer, and actually a lot of fun.”  She wrapped him up in a hug, and Dean took the comfort she was giving him.  “Deep breaths, you’ll be okay,” she insisted, turning and walking towards a second car waiting for her.  Dean climbed into the backseat, turning to properly introduce himself  _ finally  _ to the man he'd moved halfway across the country to work for.  The bright blue eyes of his boss were boring into him, and he tried to shake off his lingering discomfort from the party.

“Hello, sir, I'm Dean Winchester.”

“Hello, Dean,” he said simply, offering his hand to shake.

“Honor to meet you, Mr. Novak,” Dean said, thankful his voice didn't sound as tense as he was.  “I was hoping to go over your schedule-”

“Charlie says you're from Kansas, right?” Novak said suddenly, still looking at Dean curiously.

“Yes sir,” Dean blinked at the interruption, but managed to answer, “born and raised.”  Novak hummed thoughtfully.

“Probably never seen anything quite like tonight,” he said matter of factly.

“Can't say that I have,” Dean chuckled nervously.  Cas tucked one of his legs up underneath him, tilting his head slightly.

“You think less of me for it?” Cas asked.   _ Great, way to put me on the spot. _

“I'm not sure what to think,” Dean muttered, honestly.  His boss nodded his brow furrowing slightly as he started to talk.

“I'm aware that not all of my party attendees are the most virtuous people, but I encourage freedom of self at my events.  No cameras, no pretext, no hierarchy.”  Dean shifted in his seat, aware that his boss seemed to be sizing him up.  “I find the concept of human vice interesting,” Novak mused to himself.  “Society can assign a morality to an act, make it out to be something inherently good or bad.  I mean, vice can be different depending on where you're from or how you're raised.  Obviously some things are perceived as ‘wrong’ no matter who you're talking to, but the smaller vices?  That seems up to debate.”  Novak seemed to remember he had an audience, and he shrugged his shoulders, effectively ending his conversation with himself.  

Dean knew he was staring, he couldn't help it.  

Everything he thought Novak was going to be had been thrown out the window, rebuilt, then thrown out the same window.  Novak squinted at him slightly, before leaning forward and closing Dean’s mouth by tapping his chin gently.

“Sorry,” Dean mumbled, blushing in spite of himself, dropping his gaze to his lap.  

“What's the matter?” Novak asked.  Dean shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“Nothing I'm just… You're not what I expected.”  Dean swallowed hard, suddenly remembering he was supposed to be working, belatedly realizing his professionalism had been left at the door to that warehouse.  Novak hummed thoughtfully, a low tone that rumbled in his chest.

“Fuck expectations,” he announced.

It seems Dean was going to have to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The more comments/ kudos I get, the faster I seem to write, so BRING IT ya'll! Thanks for reading!!


	3. 3. Crazy = Genius

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, the long awaited update to this fic!! Sorry it's taken me so long, guys, been super busy lately, not to mention a hurricane coming through this past weekend lol. (I'm okay)
> 
> This is kind of a slow chapter, a bit of plot building, setting the scene for later chapters. Enjoy folks!

_ You can set yourself on fire  
_ _ You can set yourself on fire _ _   
_ _   
_ _ She said at night in my dreams _ _   
_ _ You dance on a tightrope of weird _ _   
_ _ Oh but when I wake up _ _   
_ _ You're so normal that you just disappear _ _   
_ _ You're so straight like commuters _ _   
_ _ With briefcases towing the line _ _   
_ _ There's no residue of a torturer _ _   
_ _ Inside of your eyes _ _   
_ _   
_ _ She said you're just like Mike Love _ _   
_ _ But you wanna be Brian Wilson, Brian Wilson _ _   
_ _ She said you're just like Mike Love _ _   
_ _ But you'll never be Brian Wilson _ _   
_ _   
_ _ And I said _ _   
_ _ Hey ay ay, hey ay, If crazy equals genius _ _   
_ _ Hey ay ay, hey ay, If crazy equals genius _ _   
_ _ Then I'm a fucking arsonist _ _   
_ _ I'm a rocket scientist _ _   
_ _ Hey ay ay, If crazy equals genius _ _   
_ _ You can set yourself on fire _ _   
_ _ But you're never gonna burn, burn, burn _ _   
_ _ You can set yourself on fire _ _   
_ _ But you're never gonna learn, learn, learn _ _   
_ _ Hey! _ _   
_ _   
_ _ She said, "Darlin', you know _ _   
_ _ How the wine plays tricks on my tongue _ _   
_ _ But you don't seem to change _ _   
_ _ When you stuff all of your feelings with drugs" _ _   
_ _ Other boys you may have dated _ _   
_ _ Serrated your heart with a slice _ _   
_ _ But the cut of your love never hurts _ _   
_ _ Baby, it's a sweet butter knife _ _   
_ _   
_ _ She said you're just like Mike Love _ _   
_ _ But you wanna be Brian Wilson, Brian Wilson _ _   
_ _ She said you're just like Mike Love _ _   
_ _ But you'll never be Dennis Wilson _ _   
_ _   
_ __ And I said

_ Hey ay ay, hey ay, If crazy equals genius _ _   
_ _ Hey ay ay, hey ay, If crazy equals genius _ _   
_ _ Then I'm a fucking arsonist _ _   
_ _ I'm a rocket scientist _ _   
_ _ Hey ay ay, If crazy equals genius _ _   
_ _ You can set yourself on fire _ _   
_ _ But you're never gonna burn, burn, burn _ _   
_ _ You can set yourself on fire _ _   
_ _ But you're never gonna learn, learn, learn _ _   
_ _ Hey! _ _   
_ _   
_ __ You can set yourself on fire (x4)

_   
_ _ And I said _ _   
_ _ Hey ay ay, hey ay, If crazy equals genius _ _   
_ _ Hey ay ay, hey ay, If crazy equals genius _ _   
_ _ Then I'm a fucking arsonist _ _   
_ _ I'm a rocket scientist _ _   
_ _ Hey ay ay, If crazy equals genius _ _   
_ _ You can set yourself on fire _ _   
_ _ But you're never gonna burn, burn, burn _ _   
_ _ You can set yourself on fire _ _   
_ _ But you're never gonna learn, learn, learn _ _   
_ _ Hey! _ _   
_ __ -*-*-*-

 

Dean thought he'd have done better adjusting, but it had been a month since he'd met Novak, and he still felt like he was scrambling to catch up.  Dean had arrived in LA expecting Novak to be more like an author; someone more academic, more cool and collected.  He'd expected this job to be just like every other one he'd taken, just do what's wanted of him, quickly and professionally.  

Like Novak had said: fuck expectations.  

Dean had half of the job down, the half that involved all the technical things that came with the work.  He was a pro at attending meetings, fielding emails and phone calls, and he could draw up a weeklong schedule in minutes.  

His problem was getting Novak to adhere to that schedule.  Dean’s only saving grace during those first couple weeks was the fact that the people Cas was scheduled to meet with expected him to be late.  For an author, he didn’t seem to spend too much time writing, either, even though Novak knew (and Dean kept reminding him) that the publisher and his editors were waiting on a manuscript.  

Getting Novak to go anywhere involved at least an hour long struggle, and half the time he just wouldn’t go at all, refusing to get dressed and leave the house.  Some days, he would disappear on Dean in the middle of the afternoon, only for Benny to call him near 2am and ask if Dean wanted to come help get Novak home from a party.  The ‘parties’ happened pretty regularly, and Dean had no idea how these people heard about them or knew where they'd be.  He had to admit, not every party Novak threw was like the drug infused mess of that first party, though they were in the majority.  Some had costume themes, some were completely drug and alcohol free, and one had even been a Karaoke night.  The only things that remained constant were: no pictures, no judgement, and no discrimination.  

And Novak missing any meetings the next morning.

Dean had figured out pretty quickly that Novak himself at least didn't get into the hard drug scene, nor did he come home drunk often.  He couldn't say he knew if it was the same for Meg and Balthazar, though they were Novak’s constant companions through all this.  While Dean would love nothing more than to tell them off, Novak seemed to see them as genuine friends. Not to mention it wasn't his business who Novak hung out with anyway.

He'd given up trying to talk to Novak about his schedule or his meeting notes, his boss would just interrupt him.  Some days, Dean wouldn't have to say anything, and Novak would go off on a tangent about the philosophical meaning behind…well,  _ anything _ .  Dean didn't mind those days, Novak was so  _ smart _ , his brain worked so quickly and had such a unique way of thinking.  Dean couldn't help but be impressed, and he found himself listening intently.  Novak would speak with such passion, sometimes his whole body getting into it, and Dean couldn't help but be pulled in, actually participating in the discussions.  Novak would practically buzz with excitement when he did, and Dean swore it was the only time he saw him smile a real smile.

Dean ignored the weird flutter that smile gave him.

 

Dean almost always had one day to himself, Novak slept all day on Sundays.  Dean took advantage of that habit, doing his laundry, catching up on cleaning his apartment, and more often than not talking with his family and friends back home.  From how their conversations had been going, they were all disappointed in Dean’s lack of celebrity encounters.  Granted, Dean had probably seen or met some while extracting Novak from his parties and hadn't recognized them.  In a way, Dean was kind of grateful for that.

This Sunday was Valentine’s day, and Dean had just transferred his clothes to the dryer.  It was still fairly early, but Sam being two time zones ahead had his Skype ringing for their bi weekly catch-up call fairly early in the morning.  Dean sat at his desk, answering and grinning when his brother’s face came into view, his drab dorm room wall behind him.  

“Heya, Sammy,” Dean said warmly.

“Hey, Dean.  How's it been?” Sam asked.  Dean shrugged.

“Same old, same old.  Took the Impala out for a short trip around the block.”

“Bet you miss driving, huh?” Sam chuckled.

“My Baby is meant to be driven, Sam!  She doesn't like captivity!” Dean insisted.  Sam laughed, but sobered quickly, and Dean focused in on his brother.  “What is it, Sam?”

“Dean, this morning, I uh, remembered something new,” Sam’s voice was nervous.

“Yeah?  What was it?” he asked.  Sam shifted in front of his laptop.

“I was in the hospital,” Sam said quietly.  “And I looked over at you, in your chair by my bed, and you were crying.”  Dean clenched his jaw, but didn't say anything.  “I saw you crying and I didn't know why.”  

“I know, Sammy.”

“I had never seen you cry before,” Sam continued gently, “not even as a kid.”  Dean scrubbed a hand over his jaw.

“That's because I hadn’t cried in front of you before.” Dean had to take a deep breath to keep going, “I didn't want you to see me like that, Sam.”

“Dean,” Sam smiled, “it was actually comforting, in a weird way.  I realize now... it meant you were dealing with it.”

“Not very well,” Dean chuckled darkly.

“Well enough,” Sam insisted.

They talked about Sam’s classes for a while, and Dean smiled as his brother explained excitedly about what he was learning.  Talk turned to Dean, and Sam picked up on a conversation from the last time they'd talked.

“So?” Sam said with an expectant look.

“So what?” Dean grumbled, though he knew exactly what Sam wanted.

“Come on, Dean, it's been a month,” his brother sighed.  “Details!  What's he like?”

“I told you, I don't know much about  _ him _ .  I know where Novak likes to have lunch, I know how he likes his coffee.  But Sam, I know his editor’s secretary better than I know him.”  Sam’s digital face pouted at him, but Dean really didn't want to ruin whatever image Sam had of his favorite author.  “Does the phrase ‘you should never meet your idols’ mean anything?” Dean huffed.  Sam rolled his eyes, but let it go, and Dean made sure he kept the relief off his face.

“Did you finish the books at least?” Sam asked.  Dean held up his bookmarked copy of Novak’s third book.  

“I'm about two thirds of the way through, I don't have as much time to read as you do, insomniac,” Dean said, rolling his eyes over dramatically.  Sam’s grin widened and he opened his mouth to fanboy, but was distracted by a knocking noise.  “Hang on, Dean,” he said, standing and walking out of view.  Dean stares at the blank wall of his dorm room for a bit, unable to make out the sound of mumbled voices.  Sam finally came back, looking a little embarrassed, but grinning all the same.

“What's up?” Dean asked, his big brother senses tingling with a need to tease the crap out of his brother.

“A friend stopped by,” he said.  Dean wiggled his eyebrows at Sam, hoping the gesture came across digitally.

“Uh huh, a ‘friend’?” Dean hummed.  Sam flushed.

“Stop it, Dean,” he muttered, but his embarrassment was giving him away.  “He just wants to go to lunch.”  

“He does, does he?  On Valentine’s Day?”  The mortified look on Sam’s face made Dean laugh. 

“What's so funny?” Sam groused.

“Dude, Sam,” Dean chuckled, “you don't have to ask my permission to go out.”

“It’s not-” Sam started to object.  

“Just remember to be classy, you don't want to put out on a first date.”

“Oh my god, Dean-”

“Call me back later, let me know how it went.”  Sam attempted to glare but it turned into a grin as he looked away from the camera.

“Hey, Gabe-” he called before the line went dead.  Dean was still smiling to himself as he shut down Skype, but in the silence that followed, he heard a knocking sound from somewhere in his own apartment.  He shut the computer to put it to sleep, standing and walking out to his living room.  The knock sounded again, but it didn't sound like it was coming from his door.  

It was coming from the  _ stairs. _

Dean walked over to the as yet unused door, opening it slowly to see his boss standing there, dressed in red plaid pajama pants and an old grey t shirt.  Dean felt overdressed in his jeans and denim button up.

“Uh, I, uh...hi?” he said, again faced with an inability to be professional when his boss throws him for a loop.  Novak just raised his right eyebrow, moving on like Dean hadn't just stumbled over his words.

“Come join me for breakfast?”  He phrased it like a question but Dean got the feeling it was a bit more of a gentle demand.  Without waiting for an answer, Novak turned and walked back up the stairs, and Dean followed.  He'd spent some time in the last month in the main house, but every time he did he always felt that little punch to his gut when he walked into the kitchen.  

From when Dean was little, the kitchen was always the center of the house.  His favorite memories he had of his mother almost always involved cooking something together, or eating meals at the table as a family.  Novak’s kitchen was beautiful, all dark wood and granite, stainless steel appliances, and the best part was he knew Novak  _ used  _ it.  To Dean, there was nothing worse than a kitchen that didn't get used.  He would smell whatever Novak was making floating down the stairs sometimes, and when he was lucky he'd be upstairs for an appointment, and Novak would offer him some of what he'd made.  Whatever people said about his boss, he could cook.

Cas had done up breakfast, pan fried potatoes, bacon, and some eggs.  To Dean’s surprise, a second plate was already set out for him, sitting on the kitchen island.

“Orange juice or cranberry juice?” Novak asked.  

“Orange, please,” Dean said, sitting down at the untouched plate, setting his phone down on the counter on the off chance his boss wanted to talk about work.  Novak moved to his fridge, pouring out a generous glass of OJ and handing it to him, putting the rest back.  “Thank you,” Dean said quietly.

“Mhmm.”  His boss dropped into the chair next to him in front of his half eaten plate.  Dean starts to eat, getting through half of his eggs before Novak said anything.  “So Dean, you've read my books?”  Dean nodded, slightly surprised by the small talk.

“Working on the third right now.  My brother’s a fan, he's read all three backwards and forwards.”  

“Your brother’s still back in Kansas, right?” Novak asked.

“Yeah, he's just started college,” Dean said, staring at Novak.  That had to be the first time he'd asked about Dean’s family.

“What's he studying?”

“He's going for Sociology right now, but he might get a second degree in Criminology,” Dean could hear the pride in his own voice.

“Sounds like a smart kid,” Novak nodded, speaking through a mouthful of eggs.  

“Honestly, he's got a bit of a weird serial killer hobby, which is where the criminology comes in.  He memorized facts about them when he… gets bored.”  Dean had almost mentioned Sam’s memory exercises, but he didn't feel like opening up to his boss that much.  Novak didn't seem to notice Dean’s slip, leaning forward to grab a notebook that was sitting on the counter.  With a sigh he dragged it towards him and flipped it open, jotting something down quickly and pushing it away again.  There were no lines on the pages, but the writing was still meticulously straight, and from what Dean could see of it, it was written in indecipherable shorthand.

“What's that?” Dean asked, curiosity getting the better of him.  

“It's my fourth book,” Novak said simply.  “At least, the ideas I've been tossing around.  Been having trouble with this one.”  Novak frowned at the notebook like it had personally offended him, and Dean half smiled at the petulant look.

“Too bad Sam isn't here, he could talk your ear off about the theories he has for the next book,” Dean chuckled.  Novak looked up at him, a curious expression on his face.

“He really likes my books that much?” Novak asked quietly.  Dean shrugged.

“Yeah, man, he flipped out when he found out I’d be working for you.”  Dean said, watching as Novak tapped his finger thoughtfully on his notebook.

“What do you think he likes about them?” Novak asked, and he genuinely sounded like he didn't know.  Dean set his fork down and leaned back in his chair.

“The story is captivating, you've got this way with words that makes people pay attention.  You use a full vocabulary, which helps,” Dean realized he'd been talking about what  _ he  _ liked in Novak’s books, and quickly changed gears.  “You make the characters relatable, and that's especially awesome for kids like my brother.”  Novak squinted at him in confusion, and Dean wondered how a man so intelligent could miss such subtle details sometimes.  “My brother is gay.  Least he thinks he is, might be bi, but he's never dated a girl, just a couple dudes.”  Cas blinked quickly a few times.

“Oh, right.  I forget that's a big deal to people,” Novak said.  Dean felt his brow furrow.

“You really don't see how that's a big deal?” he asked.  “I take it you don't watch the news, or get on the internet, or anything.”

“People are always looking for labels for gender designation and sexuality, and as I'm sure you know by now I have no use for labels.  I wear what I find comfortable, I act according to my personality, and I take physical pleasure in whom I find attractive, mentally and physically.”  Dean felt himself shift in discomfort at the clinical way Novak was describing such a hot button issue.  Dean himself had even taken some adjusting to the idea when his brother came out, not that it was an issue now. 

Not to mention...there was that one night...

“Some people find comfort in knowing there’s a name for them, something that describes who they are and helps them to relate to others,” Dean pointed out, pushing the memories away before they slipped to the surface.

“Makes sense,” Novak agreed, pulling his notebook to him and jotting a few more things down.  Dean blinked at the sudden end to the conversation; it almost felt like a dismissal of the whole thing.  

Dean was done with this whiplash, his frustration finally getting the better of him.  Was that really the only reason he'd asked Dean up here?  To ask about his books?  Dean wasn't being paid to make small talk, he was being paid to do a job.  

“Can I say something?” Dean sighed, wondering how much trouble he was about to get in, but hoping to take advantage of his boss’ relaxed mood.  Novak nodded, his blue eyes focused in on Dean.  

“Of course,” Novak said, taking a sip of his juice.  Dean tried to sort out his thoughts, taking a few breaths.

“It's been a month.  An entire month of meetings and errands and dragging you around this city, and I still have no idea what the hell you want from me.”  Novak sat up straighter, crossing his arms over his chest but not saying anything.  Now that Dean had started, apparently his mouth didn't want to stop.  “I'm a PA, and until I met you that job had a very specific description: make sure you keep to your schedule, run specific errands, liaise between you and your editor and publisher.  But now, half the time, I have no clue what I'm supposed to be doing.”  He sighed heavily, scrubbing his hand over his face and avoiding looking at Novak.  “Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for the work, but you make it very hard to do my job, especially when I don't know what my job is,” he grumbled.  “Sometimes you treat me like you don't need me to do anything but listen to you talk.  And at other times like you don't need me at all, and when I try to do what I'm supposed to you fight me tooth and nail, like you did with that magazine interview last week.  I just… I don't get it.”

The silence afterwards was deafening.  Novak closed his notebook, looking genuinely apologetic.

“I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, or unhappy,” he said quietly.  “I enjoy the way you engage in our conversations, I've never had anyone that really listened like you.”  Novak shifted in his chair, his shoulders slumping, and the difference in his demeanor was startling.  Dean had never seen someone pull such a 180 before.  “I'm afraid I've been a little lonely, and I've taken advantage of your proximity,” Novak said quietly.  Dean clenched his jaw, feeling strangely  _ guilty _ now.   _ God _ this guy was going to be the death of him.

“Look, Mr. Novak-”

“Castiel, please.”  Dean froze, his thoughts stumbling to a halt.  Charlie had said  _ no one _ called him by his first name, and yet here he was asking Dean to, the earnest look on his face rivaling Sam’s puppy eyes.   _ What in the actual hell? _

“Castiel,” Dean started again, the feel of his name strange on Dean’s tongue.  “I'm here to do my job, you're paying me far too much for me not to.  When it's time to work, I've got to  _ work, _ for my own sanity.”  Dean braced himself for his next words, because he was  _ sure  _ he was crossing a line  _ somewhere _ .  “After that, once my job is done, then if you want to just hang out, talk, I'm okay with that.”

“Like friends?” Castiel asked.

“Yeah, I guess.  I just need to separate the two.”  Castiel smiled at him, a small, genuine smile, and Dean ignored the fact that he couldn't help but smile back.

“I think I can do that, Dean.”

They continued eating, and Dean went over Castiel’s schedule with him, making note that his last meeting with his publisher for at least a month was on Wednesday.  After that it was simply weekly meetings with his editor while he finished his manuscript.  Castiel actually listened to Dean for once, not interrupting or grousing, waiting to let out a frustrated sigh once Dean was finished.

“Everything okay?” Dean asked.  Castiel nodded, cleaning up their dishes, dropping them in the dishwasher.

“They're trying to force me into writing, which kills my creativity,” he said, sounding annoyed.  Dean understood the ‘they’ was his publisher; Dick Roman was the one person Cas outwardly showed any animosity towards.  “They need a certain amount of my manuscript for the fourth book, so they can start working on it, and they need it by the end of April.”  

“How much do they need?  That's two and a half months away,” Dean wondered, standing to follow Castiel when he gathered up his notebook and left to go sit in the living room.

“About a third of it at the least?  But like I said I'm a bit stuck.”  Dean stood awkwardly in the living room entrance as Castiel flopped down on his couch, tossing his notebook on the coffee table.

“I guess I’ll let you get back to it,” Dean said, taking a few steps back towards the stairs.  “Let me know if you need anything,” he added.  

“Dean, wait,” Cas called, turning to kneel on the couch, resting his arms on the back while he looked at Dean.  The placement of his body, the way he leaned forward just enough, and the slope of his back set Dean’s mind to places he  _ really  _ didn’t want it to go when his boss was involved.

_ Where the fuck did that idea come from?! _

“Yeah?” he asked, praying his sudden discomfort stayed hidden.

“When you’ve finished the third book, would you mind letting me bounce ideas off of you?  Maybe get a few from your brother?”  Castiel’s fingers twirled his pen as he looked hopefully up at Dean.  “None of my assistants had read my books before, this is a new opportunity for me.”  Dean nodded.

“Yeah, sure, Castiel,” he agreed, just eager to get out of the room.  Castiel nodded and turned over to drop onto the couch again, Dean beating a hasty retreat to the stairway, sighing in relief when he was back in the privacy of his apartment.  

He nearly smacked himself in the face when he realized the professional mistake he’d just made.  He wasn’t there to be friends with Castiel, he was there to  _ work  _ for him, to wrangle secretaries and press, to pick up his mail and whatever else he didn’t want delivered.  

_ Who the hell was this guy?!   _

Dean had never met  _ anyone  _ like him, no one as smart, no one who partied as much, and definitely no one who combined the two contrasting personalities together the way he did.  He could see why Charlie apparently had a hard time keeping his employees around.  Dean wouldn't be so easily defeated, though, at least not until he'd finished paying off his debt; he owed Sam that much.

He put his clean laundry away and settled down on his couch to read some more.  In spite of how weird he was in person, he couldn't deny that Castiel was a damn good writer.

 

Thanks to Castiel’s late breakfast, he didn't really need lunch, and he read straight through until he finished the book.  Roan, the main character, after two books worth of beating around the bush, had finally come out and told Nicolas he loved him.  They'd been in a semi-relationship for the duration of the second book, but it had blossomed in the third installment.  Of course, like all young adult books, as soon as that happened, a demon pulled Nicolas into hell with them.  

“Well, damn,” Dean muttered to himself, putting the book down and climbing to his feet, stretching out the kink in his back.  It was dinner time, so he walked out to his kitchen, poking around in his fridge for something to make.  His phone started ringing, a FaceTime call coming in from his brother, and Dean answered with a smile.

“How'd the date go, Romeo?” Dean asked.  Sam flushed red.

“Dean, it wasn't a date.”

“Hmm.  Bet you wanted it to be,” he added with a wink, barely remembering to keep his face in view of his camera as he pulled out some leftover pasta, glancing at it and shoving it back in the fridge with a grimace.

“Gabe's just a friend, Dean.  I don't even know if he- I mean…”  Sam was obviously flustered, so Dean closed his fridge, putting his full attention on his brother.

“What's up, Sammy?” he asked.  Sam shrugged, running a hand through his shaggy hair.

“I told him about the accident,” Sam blurted.  His brother didn't always like to talk about what happened, even with Dean, so he didn't miss the importance of Sam telling this Gabe person about it.  He dropped his teasing attitude.

“You're serious about him, aren't you?” Dean asked quietly.  Sam nodded.

“He's hilarious, Dean.  Irreverent, blunt, he loves dessert more than you.  He's got a kind heart, as much as he tries to hide it.”  Sam blushes, a soft smile on his face.  “He wasn't phased by my story at all.”

“Do you think he's interested?” Dean asked.  Sam shrugged.

“Maybe?  I mean, sometimes I'm sure he's flirting, but I don't want to read into it.”  Sam was fishing for advice, Dean knew it, but he hadn't exactly been the poster child for serious relationships.

“Listen, Sam, if you trust him enough to tell him about the accident, on a ‘non’ date, just ask him out,” Dean said, smiling when his brother blushed again.  “And speaking of lovers and drama, I finished the third book,” Dean said, changing the subject.  Sam grinned at him.

“Yeah?  What'd you think?” 

“I mean, would it be too much to ask for a happy ending once in awhile?  Last book Castiel killed someone-” he cut himself off when Sam’s exaggerated gasp came over the phone.  “What?”

“You're on first name basis now?” he asked.  Dean sighed.

“Yeah, I guess?”

“What happened since this morning?” Sam wondered with a laugh.

“We actually talked,” Dean said with a shrug.  “I don't see why it's a big deal.  And easy on the fanboy crap, I'm not going there,” Dean added.  Sam pouted at him.

“Alright, fine.  Hey, I better go work on some schoolwork, and at least attempt to sleep tonight,” Sam sighed.  

“Alright, Sammy.”

“Hey, Dean?” 

“Hm?”

“Thanks.”  Sam's smile was contagious.

“Don't you say a word to Jo about me going all chick flick and giving you relationship advice,” Dean said sternly, failing to keep the smile off his face.  Sam held up three fingers in a Boy Scout salute.

“Your secret is safe with me!” Sam laughed.

“Yeah, yeah, goodbye Sam,” Dean grumbled.

“Bye, Dean.”  He hung up the phone, tucking it in his pocket, about to turn back to finding food when his phone rang again.

“Yeah?” he answered curtly, wondering what Sam forgot to tell him.  He was  _ hungry. _

“Um, hi, I just wanted to check how your first month was going.”  Charlie’s voice was cautious and Dean pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Hey, Charlie, sorry,” Dean sighed.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, I guess.  Had a weird afternoon, and I'm starving.”  He hesitated, but figured  _ what the hell,  _ Charlie was his only real friend here, and he needed to vent to someone _. _  He spilled, telling her everything, well  _ most  _ everything, that had happened between him and Castiel that morning.  She let him talk, just listening quietly, and for that Dean was immensely grateful.  When he finished the phone was silent for a few beats, and he pulled it away to check and see if it disconnected.

“Wow… he asked you to call him Castiel?” she asked, sounding slightly awestruck.  Dean huffed a heavy breath.

“That’s all you’ve got to say?  Haven’t I broken some ethics rule or something?” Dean asked.  

“Oh, uh, I don’t think so, no.  I mean, there’s rules about romantic relationships simply because it can cause a bias, or be used against someone, but really, Dean, you’re nowhere close to anything like that.”  Dean felt relief run through him.

“Okay, thanks Charlie.”

“Hmm,” she hummed thoughtfully, “sounds to me like you need a night out, away from Mr. Novak.  Why don't you saddle up your ride, and I'll meet you at Psychic Pam’s?”  Dean raised an eyebrow at the excitement under her words.

“You've been trying to get me there for ages,” Dean said, his voice filled with false suspicion.  “What is it about that place you're not telling me?”

“Will you just grow a pair and meet me there?” Charlie laughed.  “Seriously, you've been here for a month and you haven't gone out  _ once _ .”

“How do you know?” Dean asked indignantly.

“Dinner at Andrea’s place doesn't count as going out,” Charlie laughed.  Dean groaned, exaggerating his annoyance to cover up the fact that she had a point.

“Fine.  You're buying the first round,” Dean muttered.

 

Psychic Pam’s was owned and bartended by one Pamela Barnes, a fiery woman with a smart mouth, and the atmosphere of the place reminded Dean so much of the Roadhouse, he instantly felt at home.  Charlie and Dot had gotten them one of the extra large booths, and Benny and Andrea showed up as well, everyone settling in and ordering greasy bar food and beers.  It seems that the others were all regulars, most of the waiters and waitresses knew their names, and the relaxed comfort of his friends helped make Dean more comfortable.  Classic rock started playing over the buzz of conversation in the place, and a wave of homesickness came over Dean, suddenly and strongly.  

He excused himself from the group to head to the bar on his own, grabbing a stool as Pam shot him a wink and poured him a shot.

“On the house, handsome,” she smiled, and he shot her a wink back as he downed it.

“So what’s on your mind?” Benny asked, walking up next to Dean and clapping him on the shoulder.  Dean focused on the empty shot glass, carefully setting it down on the bar.

“I had a ‘talk’ with Novak this morning,” he huffed.  “That guy is something else.”

“You ain’t kidding,” Benny chuckled.  “So what was this ‘talk’ about?” he asked curiously.  Dean shrugged.

“Well, I kind of...called him out on all the shit he’s been pulling this month,” Dean muttered.  Benny laughed hard.

“You got some stones, brother.  How’d that go for you?”

“Actually,” Dean chuckled, “it went surprisingly well.  He even kind of apologized.”

“No shit,” Benny said, and impressed look on his face.  “Dean Winchester, pretty boy from Kansas, breaking down Castiel Novak.”  Dean rolled his eyes.

“What the hell is up with all this pretty boy crap?  Between you and Castiel’s friends calling me that, it’s really starting to get on my nerves.”  He doesn’t realize the mistake he’s made until he notices Benny is flat out staring at him.  “What?” he grumbles, feeling his ears turn pink in spite of himself.  

“You’re calling him by his first name now?” Benny asked, disbelief in his voice.  Dean shrugged it off.

“He asked me to outside of work.”  Benny doesn’t stop staring.  “Dude, the hell?” Dean grouses, grabbing a handful of peanuts to give his hands something to do.

“Nothing, it’s just… the hell kind of hoodoo you working on Novak?”  Dean gives Benny a patented Winchester bitch face and Benny holds up his hands.  “Alright, we’ll stop talking about him,” Benny gives in.  After a few moments of silence, Dean tosses the peanut shells, turning on his barstool to lean heavily on the bar.  

“To be honest, I’ve thought about leaving a few times,” he says quietly.  Benny took a slow pull of his beer.

“You’re still here,” he pointed out.  Dean nodded.

“I have to stay.”  

“You keep saying that, like it's supposed to mean something, but you never say why,” Benny pointed out.

“For Sam, my brother,” Dean said quietly.  He smiled at the memory of his conversation with Sam that afternoon. “I know it’s cliche, but I've got a mountain of debt to pay off, and I need the money.  There’s no way I’d make nearly half this much back home.  Hell, I’m practically living for free in a nice ass apartment, and I’ve already made a huge dent in what I owe.  Plus, I’m working for one of my brother’s heroes, he’d kill me if I quit this job.”  Benny nodded, but stayed quiet, so Dean continued.  “I owe it to Sam, to get him out from under our crappily dealt life, to get him through college.”

“You’ve got friends and family to help you out, why is it you feel you have to shoulder this all on your own?” Benny asked pointedly.  Dean paused to consider his answer.

“Because when my mom died, my dad was supposed to step up and take care of us, and he… he let us down.  I can’t let Sam down, not again.  I will not.”  Benny considered him with a warm smile.

“I don’t think you will.”  Benny’s confidence was genuine, and Dean smiled, clapping Benny on the shoulder.

“Thanks, man, that means a lot.”  As he and Benny both turned back to the bar, a curvy blonde walked up, sliding in next to Dean on his other side and ordering a drink.  She was wearing jeans that hugged her thighs, her chest practically bursting from her too small shirt, and a coy smile on her face.  Her perfume wafted over to him, dark and floral, just like the woman wearing it.  Benny not so subtly nudged him hard with an elbow.

Dean glanced over and met her eyes, the two of them exchanging a flirty smile.  Dean had to admit it had been awhile since he'd had any company outside his own shower, and he could probably use it.  Lord knows she was hitting some of his favorite buttons, but something held him back.  Something about her just felt fake, like she was trying too hard to pretend, and Dean’s desire fell flat.  He subtly shook his head and she walked away with her drink, her hips swaying as Dean watched her go.

“Dude!” Benny chuckled.  “She was all ready to go and you just-” Benny mimed a gunshot.

“She's not my type,” Dean shrugged it off.  He was reaching for his wallet when Benny’s elbow dug into his side again.  “Come on, you're going to leave a bruise,” Dean complained.

“If you're lookin’ for another option, there's been another pair of eyeballs on you tonight,” Benny said, nodding over Dean’s shoulder.  Dean turned slightly, catching a glimpse of a guy about his height and build, shaggy ear length black hair and a leather jacket, eyeing him from across the room.  He was playing pool, and Dean watched with mild interest as he bent to take his shot, eyes catching Dean’s again when he looked up.  He felt the flush on his face as the guy’s eyes travelled down his body before he turned to take another shot, and Dean looked back down at the bar.

Dean belatedly realized his ogling had just outed him to his friend.  The cold panic started to trickle down his neck, and he blushed furiously.

“I, uh-” he started but was cut off when Benny gently laughed.

“S’matter Dean?  You ain't got nothing to be ashamed of.”  Dean stared at the surface of the bar, refusing to look up at Benny.

“I’m not, uh, used to...” Dean let out a frustrated sigh, and Benny waved Pam down for a couple shots for each of them.  

“Hey, I won't say a thing if you don't want.  I guess people weren't exactly throwing pride parades in central Kansas.”  Benny’s tone was apologetic, and Dean heaved a sigh, downing one of the four shots Pam set down for them.

“I mean, I'm not ashamed of it,” Dean said quietly.  “I just…got used to hiding it.”  Benny downed one of his shots.

“In this town, there's no need, brother.  You’ll get some ignorant dicks giving you a hard time, but overall, everyone round here’s pretty… flexible.”  Benny raised an eyebrow in a smirk, and Dean felt a smile tug at his lips.

“Have you…?”

“Once, with a lot of alcohol on Andrea’s birthday.”  They both shared a hearty laugh, and Dean’s initial discomfort faded.

“You’re still one hell of a sneaky bastard, outing me like that.”  Dean downed his second shot with Benny.

“What's got you boys all giggly?” Pam asked as she walked past them, and Dean blushed  _ again _ through his smile.

“Poor boy’s flustered by Paul over there,” Benny chuckled.

“Hey!  What happened to not saying anything!” Dean said indignantly.

“Aw, lay off him Benny,” Pam chuckled, snapping him with a bar rag.  “LA and Kansas are like two different worlds, give the poor guy a break.”  Benny rubbed his arm, looking offended.  Dean hadn’t really planned on coming out to anyone here at all, but now that he had, he realized he needn't have worried about it.

“Bitch,” Benny mumbled as he rubbed his arm where Pam had snapped him.  Dean laughed, and he shoved some money for his share of dinner in Benny’s hand.  “Where are you going?” Benny asked.  “I'm sorry if I-”

“It's fine, Benny, really,” Dean assured him, slapping his arm where Pam had hit him with the towel.  “And you deserved that, by the way.”  He stopped by the table to say goodnight to the girls, and turned for the door.  

He felt eyes on him and looked up.

‘Paul’ was still watching him, his hands tucked in his jacket, leaning against the wall.  Dean recognized the invitation, he’d been the one giving it enough times, and he had to admit that this ‘Paul’ guy was attractive.  

However, he'd only ever been with one man before, and that night wasn't one of Dean’s best.  Dean smiled at him, but shook his head, and the shrug of Paul’s shoulders seemed to say ‘suit yourself’.  Dean walked out and climbed into Baby, turning on his GPS and turning for his apartment.

_ Man, what a freakin day. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, not a lot happens here, but we're setting the scene for what comes next!


	4. 4. LA Devotee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the amazingly positive and encouraging comments I received the last time I updated this!! You have no idea how much they inspire me <3
> 
> Here's your long awaited update XD 
> 
> To all you Sabriel fans out there: You're welcome ;)
> 
> Again, I have no idea what an actual PA's job includes, so just roll with me here XD

 

_ You got two black eyes from loving too hard _ __  
_ And a black car that matches your blackest soul _ __  
_ I wouldn't change ya, oh oh _ __  
_ Wouldn't ever try to make you leave, no _ __  
_ The neon coast was your sign _ __  
_ And the Midwest wind with Pisces rising _ __  
_ Wouldn't change ya, oh oh _ __  
_ Wouldn't ever try to make you leave, no _ __  
__  
_ Static palms melt your vibe _ __  
_ Midnight whisperings _ __  
__  
_ The black magic of Mulholland Drive _ __  
_ Swimming pools under desert skies _ __  
_ Drinking white wine in the blushing light _ __  
_ Just another LA Devotee _ __  
_ Sunsets on the evil eye _ __  
_ Invisible to the Hollywood shrine _ __  
_ Always on the hunt for a little more time _ __  
_ Just another LA Devotee _ _  
_ __ Just another, just another, uh oh(x3)

_ Just another LA Devotee _ __  
__  
_ You got bleached out eyes from the valley sand _ __  
_ And the black tar palms keep weeping your name _ __  
_ I couldn't change ya, oh oh _ __  
_ Couldn't ever try to make you see, no _ __  
_ The high rise lights read your rights _ __  
_ And a downtown storm with Aries rising _ __  
_ Couldn't change ya, oh oh _ __  
_ Couldn't ever try to make you see, no _ __  
__  
_ Static palms melt your vibe _ __  
_ Midnight whisperings _ __  
__  
_ The black magic of Mulholland Drive _ __  
_ Swimming pools under desert skies _ __  
_ Drinking white wine in the blushing light _ __  
_ Just another LA Devotee _ __  
_ Sunsets on the evil eye _ __  
_ Invisible to the Hollywood shrine _ __  
_ Always on the hunt for a little more time _ __  
_ Just another LA Devotee _ __  
_ Just another, just another, uh oh(x3) _ __  
_ Just another LA Devotee _ __  
  


_ LA Devotee (x4) _ __  
__  
_ The black magic of Mulholland Drive _ __  
_ Swimming pools under desert skies _ __  
_ Drinking white wine in the blushing light _ __  
_ Just another LA Devotee _ __  
_ Sunsets on the evil eye _ __  
_ Invisible to the Hollywood shrine _ __  
_ Always on the hunt for a little more time _ __  
_ Just another LA Devotee _ __  
_ Just another, just another, uh oh(x3) _ _  
_ __ Just another LA Devotee

-*-*-*-

 

The next couple months went by smoothly, allowing Dean to finally get into a schedule, and by the time the month of April arrived most of Dean’s life was figured out.  

_ Most  _ of it.

Now that Dean wasn’t worried about crossing some personal line, both his work and his non-work interactions with Castiel got much easier.  During the day, when Castiel was actually working on his book, Dean would make phone calls and visits to his editor and his publisher, help sort out fanmail and actual mail, and run any errands that needed running.  Some days Castiel had in person meetings to attend, and Dean would sit in on most of them, taking notes of the things he was sure Castiel would forget.  At the end of the day, he would meet Castiel upstairs to go over everything, and they’d either go out to dinner before one of his parties, or one of them would cook.  He actually found himself enjoying Castiel’s company, bouncing around ideas for his new book, chatting about a tv show, or sometimes just talking about nothing at all.  Their conversations never delved into personal information, and each time it came close to crossing that line, one or the other would stop it quick.  It seemed neither of them were interested in progressing their semi-friendship much further than where it was.  

Part of the reason Dean made sure he kept their conversations neutral was that the more time he spent with Castiel, the more he started to  _ notice _ things.  Like the spread of his shoulders when he wore tight shirts, and the muscles in his thighs when he stepped out of his in house gym in cotton shorts.  The wrinkles around his eyes, and the way he scrunched his nose when he was super focused on something.  The depth of his blue eyes when he had latched on to a good plot point for his writing.  The passion he felt for his story and his characters, beautifully obvious whenever he'd start to talk about it.

Finding your boss extremely sexy was rule number one in the “bad ideas for the workplace” handbook.  And it seemed Dean couldn't help but break it.

In spite of Dean’s glaring disapproval, Castiel’s parties still happened on a fairly regular basis, though Dean  _ swore  _ that they were getting cleaner.  Yeah, people may still be practically having sex in the dark corners, but the evidence of the harder drugs seemed to slowly dissipate, and with their decline there were also less of the scary, unsavory people attending the parties.  Dean wondered if Castiel had overheard him complaining to Benny one night about his worry that he or Castiel would get arrested.  

He also found himself wondering why Castiel would care what he thought.

Castiel had even started holding events that were designed for the more benign crowd, things leaning more on the fun and nerdy side than the hardcore party side.  Charlie was delighted by this change, and Dean actually attended a couple of those parties, turning a blind eye to Meg and Balthazar's behavior.  Their constant flirting and touching seemed focused on Castiel, or each other, and as long as they left Dean out of it, he would tolerate it.  Barely.

Meg and Balthazar seemed to sense the change in the parties as well, and they didn't seem to like it.  The most recent ‘no drugs allowed’ party seemed to be the last straw for them, and they spent the entire night all over Castiel, leering and groping, which irrationally made Dean angry.  It was one thing to mess with him, but to use Castiel just to piss Dean off made him realize how shitty they were as friends.  That night Cas had gone home with Meg, both of them half undressed by the time they left.  Dean had gone out with Benny to get blindingly drunk.

The last straw for Dean was when Meg and Balt started to invade his small personal bubble, inviting themselves over to Castiel’s house unannounced and at random times.  It had gotten worse over the last two weeks; even though they knew it was the last push for Castiel’s submission deadline, they still wouldn't leave him alone.  Sometimes they'd come with strangers in tow, but mostly it was just the two of them and a bunch of illicit substances.  Castiel never turned them away, and when Dean would try to use reason to convince them to let Castiel work, they would talk over him so much he’d give up and just go downstairs, locking his door behind him.  His interactions with Meg and Balt at Castiel’s parties were enough for him, he didn't want to see what they'd get up to in the privacy of Castiel’s home.

Dean knew he was taking it personally, but he couldn't help it.  After the sixth visit from Meg and Balt in a two week period, he was constantly on the verge of lashing out in anger, even trips to the gym to try and burn it off didn't seem to work, and he only barely managed to keep from snapping at Castiel on the days they weren't there.  If something didn't break soon,  _ Dean  _ was going to break.

 

It happened sooner than Dean thought.

Dean woke to the loud thud of music coming through the insulated ceiling and doors to his apartment on that next Sunday morning, and he couldn't stop his anger from bubbling hot under his skin.  

Enough was fucking enough.  

He pulled on pants over his boxer briefs and made his way upstairs, not sure if he’d be able to convince Castiel to kick them out this time, but he was going to fucking try.

“Hey, pretty boy is awake!” Meg called as he rounded the corner.  Castiel was lounging on the couch, watching Meg dance to the strange house music, and he turned at her announcement.  His boss had the decency to look apologetic at least, which gave Dean hope he might actually remove these guys from the house that morning.

“Ooh, and he looks pissed!” Balt agreed with Meg from his spot behind Castiel’s bar.

“It’s 9:15 in the morning, did you guys even go home last night?” Dean snapped, glaring at Balt.  He just shrugged and poured out some vodka shots.

“Why bother, it’s the weekend,” he called back to Dean.  Dean gritted his teeth, but his snippy remark was silenced when a second woman he didn’t recognize walked out of the downstairs bathroom.  She had wavy brown hair, a wide smile, and her jeans were so tight they might as well have been painted on.

“Hello, I don’t believe we’ve met,” mystery woman said in a British accent, walking around the couch towards Dean.  As she brushed her hair over her shoulder, Dean caught a glimpse of skin; her shirt was strapless.

“Dean, I’m Mr. Novak’s PA,” he said, taking a cautious step back when the woman stood a bit too close.

“Bela, pleasure,” she said, offering her hand.  Dean shook it, and when she leaned in to air kiss his cheeks, her over expensive perfume burned in his nose.  He tried to keep his discomfort off his face, pulling his hand from Bela’s grip and walking over to Castiel.  He avoided looking at the others in the room, ignoring them and focusing on Castiel.

“I was under the impression this was going to be a good drafting day,” he said quietly.  Castiel opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off before he could by a barking laugh.

“Cassie, seriously, where did you find this one?  He’s so… boring,” Balthazar called, walking over to the group with eight shots on a tray.  

“Balt, be nice.  He can’t help being a country boy,” Meg hummed condescendingly, and Dean caught her downing two shots in quick succession out of the corner of his eye.  Dean set his jaw and ignored the commentary.  Castiel leaned forward, grabbing and tossing back one of the shots, grimacing like he was bracing himself before he turned back to Dean.

“I hit a wall,” Castiel mumbled, and Dean blinked at the flush on Castiel’s cheeks.  He was lying to Dean and he felt _bad_ about it?

“Look, Castiel, this isn't a good idea.  You know it.  Don't let them do this,” Dean said even quieter, just loud enough that only Castiel heard him over the music.  He looked up at Dean, confused and almost startled, like he didn’t recognize him for a moment.  He didn’t respond though, and Dean huffed a sigh, straightening up to walk back to his apartment before he did something he'd regret.  So much for getting rid of them that morning, guess Castiel didn't care about how bad they were treating him.

Then again, Castiel was a fucking adult, he could make his own decisions to hang out with his dickish friends.  When the hell had this become Dean’s problem?  

He was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

“Come join the party,” Bela hummed, stepping in front of him and trailing a finger down his chest.  Dean swallowed hard to keep from snapping at her, taking her wrist to get her hand off him and dropping it as soon as he could.

“I'm good, thanks, no drinking before noon,” he muttered, ignoring the way she brushed him with her hip as he walked past her.  Dean actually hoped she saw his disgust this time.

“Wow, even Bela didn’t work.  I think you’re right Meg, no concept of fun at all,” Balthazar sing songed.  The laugh shared between the three unwelcome guests made Dean’s skin hum, and he clenched his fist, forcing himself to turn his back to the group and leave.  The music stopped suddenly.

“Lay off,” Castiel sighed into the quiet room, and Dean figured he must have been the one that turned off the music.

“Not our fault your lackey is a whiny prude.   _ He _ could use a good lay,” Meg snipped.

“I agree.  Probably too many daddy issues for you or me to handle it, eh Cassie?” Balt said loudly.  Something inside Dean snapped at the mention of his dad, and he spun on his heel to face Balthazar, his face hot with anger.

“Who the fuck asked you?!” he shouted into the silent room.  Balt’s smile held no humor.

“I'm sorry, did I hurt your feelings, PA?” Balt said with a sneer.  

“Yeah, I'm a PA, I'm trying to do my job and you fuckers keep getting in the way.”

“Piss off,” Balt spat, “Cassie is my friend, you're his pee-.0on.  Who the hell are you to talk to me like that?!”  Balt was on his feet now, taking two steps closer to Dean.  Dean felt his limbs shaking, and he took a couple steps forward before he forced himself to stop.   _ Come on, this jackass isn't worth it,  _ he tried to tell himself.  Meg leaned back like she was watching a movie, smiling as her gaze bounced between the two of them.

“You claim to be his friend, I haven't seen you do a single damn thing but spend his money and drink his booze.”

“Guys, cool it,” Cas said cautiously from where he stood by the stereo.

“Must have hit the nail on the head to get you all riled up like this.  S’matter, daddy a drunk?  Was he disappointed when you turned out to be such a pussy?”

“You don't know a  _ damn  _ thing about my dad, you can shut your fucking mouth.”

“Or maybe it’s mommy issues-”

“ENOUGH!!”  Castiel’s shout was nearly deafening.  Meg and Balt both just stared at him in open mouthed shock, and Dean was so startled his anger almost completely left him.  He also tried very,  _ very _ hard not to think about how Castiel’s hard determination and angry conviction was kind of… _ hot. _

“Cas-” Meg started.

“Get out,” Castiel hissed.  “OUT!”  The three house guests scrambled to gather their things and hurry out the door, Balt shooting a furious look at Dean as he brushed past.  The door slammed shut and a thick silence fell over the house.  Dean watched as Castiel’s brow furrowed, his body stiffening as he turned to Dean.

“Cas?” Dean asked.

“I'm sorry, for his behavior,” Cas said quietly, not noticing the nickname, or if he noticed not saying anything.  “That was way out of line, even for Balthazar.”  Dean ran his hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry that escalated,” Dean said tightly, “I kind of lost my head.”

“He was talking about your family, I understand,” Cas said gently, and Dean laughed darkly.

“No, you don't, but thanks anyway, Cas.”  He turned to go.

“I can handle them, you didn’t need to step in.” Cas added quietly.  Dean stopped, turning back to face his boss.  His residual anger was being redirected to Cas, and he knew it wasn’t Cas’ fault but Dean couldn't help it.  There was no way Cas would have kicked them out without Dean’s interference.

“You can  _ handle  _ them?” Dean asked, his voice filled with disbelief.

“I have been for years,” Cas pointed out.  Dean scrubbed a hand down his face.

“Have you seriously not noticed how bad they’ve gotten, how rude and inconsiderate they’ve been to the  _ both  _ of us?  It’s petulant and childish.”

“What’s your point?” Cas asked, eyebrow raised.  Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, his patience running thin.

“Call them out on their shit, Cas, you’re the only one they’ll listen to.”

“They’re my friends, they helped me when no one else did-”

“So you’re saying you owe them?  Is that it?” Dean laughed humorlessly.

“Maybe I do,” Cas snapped, frowning at Dean, his arms crossed over his chest.  “You don’t know me, Dean.” 

“You’re right,” Dean scoffed, “You’re right, I don’t.  All I’m trying to do is help you, Cas, that’s my  _ job _ .”  Cas’ frown deepened, and his eyes turned colder.

“Get out, Dean.  Just go.”  Dean shook his head, spinning on his heel and storming off to his apartment.  He tried to pretend the dismissal didn't hurt, but in hindsight maybe he  _ shouldn’t _ have gotten involved.  He was just so  _ tired  _ of watching them walk all over Cas, of having them abuse their friendship with him to get away with whatever the hell they wanted.  Cas had kicked them out, so that was a step, but for some reason, the whole thing sat funny in Dean’s stomach, making his meager breakfast of Cheerio’s tumble uncomfortably in his gut.  

Even Sam’s Skype call did little to calm him down, the frustration fresh on his mind.

“What's going on?” Sam finally asked after about ten minutes of trying to interact with Dean.

“Nothing,” Dean said quickly.  Sam simply raised an eyebrow.  “Look, Sam, it's nothing, I'm just a little tired is all,” Dean insisted.

“Mhmm, I believe that,” Sam hummed.  Dean heard Gabriel’s voice in the background.  “Of course he is, he can be more stubborn than you,” Sam answered his boyfriend.  Sam had taken Dean’s advice, and he and Gabe were practically inseparable from Valentine's Day on.  It still felt a little strange to Dean, the idea that Sam had a serious boyfriend.  Not the “boy” friend part, but knowing that Sam was in a serious, adult relationship.  Dean had forgotten how much growing up Sam had actually done.  His brother was happy with this Gabe, and in the end that’s all that mattered to Dean.

“I'm right here,” Dean reminded him grumpily.  Gabe's caramel hair came into view as he leaned over Sam’s shoulder.

“Hey Dean-o!” he called.  

“Hello, Gabriel,” Dean groaned.  Gabe made a face in the camera, looking at Sam with mock concern.

“Can you hear the angst in his voice, Samsquatch?!  Your brother sounds like he needs to get laid!”  Sam gagged and pushed Gabe away from the camera as Dean rubbed his temples to combat the rising headache coming on.

“Dude, gross!” Sam laughed.

“Just calling it like I see it!” Gabe called.  Sam turned back to the camera, his smile turning serious.

“Dean, are you sure you’re okay?” he asked quietly.  Sam’s concern made Dean pause and actually think about his answer.   _ Something  _ had him on edge, and not just Meg and Balt interrupting his Sunday.  No, something else was eating at him, and he couldn't quite put his finger on it.  He ran his hand through his hair frustratedly.

“I dunno, Sammy.  Maybe I just need to take a few days off,” he sighed.  He hadn't really taken any time for himself lately, maybe that was all his problem was.

“My spring break is coming up in a few days,” Sam pointed out.  

“Yeah, I know,” Dean nodded, raising an eyebrow curiously as Sam bit at his lip.

“Go on, Sam,” Gabe said from off camera.  Dean sat up a little straighter, watching his brother curiously.

“Well, I got a little part time job, at this coffee shop on campus,” Sam said quickly.

“Sam-” Dean started but his brother spoke over top of him.

“Look, I hardly work two days a week, I’m not falling behind in class.  It’s just so I’d have a little spending money.”  He looked off camera at Gabe again.

“For pete’s sake-” Gabe huffed dramatically, leaning in front of the camera and giving Dean a great view up his nose.  “Dean, Sam’s saved up enough for a round trip plane ticket.  Your nerdy bro wants you to take him to Disneyland.” 

“Gabe!” Sam grunted, shoving his boyfriend out of the way again.  From the way Sam’s cheeks were flushed, Dean’s guess was Gabe had told the truth.    
“You want to come visit me?” Dean almost laughed, his spirits instantly lifted.  Sam nodded.

“Yeah!  I know if you come home, you might not leave again, so I figured I’d try to come see you.”  He turned on his puppy dog eyes, not that Dean needed convincing.

“Of course, Sam,” Dean chuckled.  “Sure.  Listen, I’ll talk to Castiel and Charlie about time off, but don’t buy your plane ticket until you hear back from me, okay?”  Dean grinned at the barely concealed excitement in Sam’s face.

“Yeah, sure!”

He and Sam went over a tentative schedule and as soon as Dean hung up the Skype call, he got to work looking up information on the trip.  He almost balked when he saw the cost of tickets and hotels, but relaxed slightly when he remembered the amount of money he now made.  Even splurging for some luxuries would only put him a month or so behind where he wanted to be, and since he was still high off of Sam’s excitement, he went for broke.  Dean sent a message off to Charlie, and within a couple of hours they'd planned a whole trip out.  It was mostly thanks to Charlie, she got so excited when Dean mentioned it she practically commandeered his little vacation, taking the second bedroom in their suite for her and Dot.  

A visit from Sam couldn't have been better timed.  This had been the longest he'd gone without seeing his brother since the accident, and apparently it was taking its toll on Dean.  He knew that Sam could take care of himself, that wasn't the issue anymore.  He had just grown so accustomed to having him around, sharing a room, doing things together, that being without him felt...lonely.  Dean smiled at the photo of him and Sam by his bed.  Yeah, seeing Sam was sure to help him get out of this constant pissy mood.

Now all that was left to do was ask Cas if it would be okay for him to take a few days off.  Hoping the incident that morning hadn’t soured Cas’ mood too bad, Dean took a deep breath and steeled himself for his walk upstairs.

Music was playing softly from Cas’ office on the second floor, a room he rarely used, and with some trepidation Dean climbed the staircase.  The music was a soft jazz, nothing like the usual thudding music Cas would normally listen to.  The door to the office was open slightly, and Dean poked his head inside, knocking as he did so.

“Castiel?” Cas looked up from his laptop.

“Come in,” he answered, the music coming from his computer pausing.  Dean stepped inside, taking a quick look around.  Bookshelves lined nearly every wall, and aside from the huge corner desk Cas was sitting at, there wasn't any other furniture in the room.  The books were all well cared for, and Dean recognized a good number of the titles.  His gaze fell back on Cas, waiting patiently behind his desk, and Dean’s cheeks pinked slightly.

“Hey, I was wondering if I could get some time off this coming week?” he asked without preamble.  Cas watched him for a moment, and Dean started to worry he was going to say no.

“I don't see why not,” Cas shrugged, and Dean sagged in relief.  “Why so sudden?” he added, leaning back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head.   _ Bastard,  _ Dean muttered to himself, averting his eyes from the strip of skin revealed by the motion.  The image of hot, authoritative Cas from earlier was still too fresh in his mind.

“My brother’s spring break is coming up, and we’ve planned a trip for him to come visit, kind of last minute,” Dean explained.  “I’m taking him to Disneyland,” he added with a half smile.  

“Alright,” Cas huffed.  “Provided you’re available should anything important come up.”  Dean felt the tension leave his shoulders, grateful that Cas hadn’t taken that morning personally.  Cas looked down at his laptop, then back up at Dean.  “How do you feel about angels?” he asked.  Dean frowned, totally baffled by the strange question.

“What?”

“Angels,” Cas repeated.

“Like do I believe they exist?”

“No, for my story,” Cas huffed slightly, waving off Dean’s confusion.  “Remember we were hung up on how to get Nicolas out of hell?”  Dean’s chest grew warm at the  _ we  _ in that sentence, but he kept his face blank and let Cas continue.  “As soon as I put the angels in it all seemed to click.  I've written a good twenty pages already.”  

“It's your story, you think you can write angels into it, then go for it,” Dean smiled at the wrinkles around Cas’ squinted eyes, the face he made when he was seriously concentrating.

“I'm sure I'll face some backlash from the Christian traditionalists, but the idea that they hold the monopoly on celestial beings is absurd anyway.  There are at least six different traditions of what an angel is or isn't, and three major religions as well.  Sometimes an angel isn't even a reference to anything specific, more a concept of how someone should be perceived, or simply a messenger, nothing holy about them.  Then of course, there are the many different versions of the bible, where angels are wrathful doers of God’s will, and yet loving and good at the same time…” The entire time Cas has been rambling Dean was standing there quietly, his arms crossed over his chest, smiling at him as he waited for Cas to pause.  Cas’ face flushed slightly as he trailed off, and he ran his hand through his flyaway hair.  The blush on him was adorable.

Holy fuck, Dean just used the adjective  _ adorable _ in relation to his boss.  He  _ really  _ needed some time off.

“You've obviously done your research,” Dean chuckled, trying to blow off his own embarrassment.

“I have to get this right,” Cas muttered, dropping back into his office chair.  “I have to,” he repeated to himself.

“You've said that before,” Dean pointed out, the silly grin fading from his face.  “Why is this book so special?”  Cas bit his lip nervously.

“Why did Balt talking about your parents upset you so much?” Cas countered, and Dean immediately sensed that Cas’ reasons were just as personal and painful as his own.  There was a beat of silence while they both simply stared at the other, waiting to see who would be the first to break.  It was Dean.

“Touché,” he sighed as his eyes found the floor.  He heard a sigh come from Cas.

“Dean, I understand what you were attempting to do this morning, thank you for that,” Cas said gently.  Dean nodded and Cas turned his attention back to his laptop, Dean retreating from the office quickly to call his brother with the good news.

 

A week later, Dean was pacing outside security at the John Wayne airport, searching through the crowd of disembarking passengers for Sam.  He spotted him, shaggy hair a few inches taller than everyone else, and when Sam saw him he took off at a jog, nearly knocking Dean on his ass when he hugged him.

“Whoa, easy there tiger,” Dean laughed, gaining his balance and squeezing his brother back.

“Good to see you, Dean,” Sam laughed, stepping back and picking up his bag he'd dropped.  “California suits you, you've got a tan!” he added.  Dean shrugged, looking his brother over.

“College is suiting you, you've filled out a bit,” Dean teased.  Sam punched him in the arm.

“Are you calling me fat?!” he demanded.  Dean shrugged, dodging the next punch.  In all honesty, maybe it was just because it had been so long since he'd seen him, but Sam’s shoulders had started to fill out, and he'd started to grow into his limbs; he wasn't some scrawny, awkward little kid anymore.

“Don't mind me, I'll just stand here.  You know, eye candy for the ladies and gents,” came a voice from behind Sam.  Sam reached up to scratch the back of his neck nervously.

“Oh yeah, uh, Dean, I kinda forgot to mention…”  Dean looked behind Sam to see someone he'd come to recognize, a lollipop in his mouth and a smirk on his face.

“Gabriel came with you?” Dean asked, surprised to say the least.

“Nice to meet you in person, Dean,” Gabe said around the candy, holding out his hand.  Dean shook it cautiously.

“Don't worry, he’ll pay for his share of the trip, but I wanted the two of you to meet, and I know this was kind of a family thing and-” 

“Sammy,” Dean chuckled, slapping his brother on the back, “breathe, it's alright.  We’re sharing the room with Charlie already to begin with, why not squeeze in another body?”  Sam’s face broke out into a huge grin, his relief palpable.  “So, any luggage?” Dean asked, before Sam said something sentimental.

“No, we just packed the duffles,” Sam answered quickly, gesturing at his bag.  “I can't wait to meet Charlie!  She sounds awesome!”

“Well then, let's get going, I'm hungry,” Gabe whined from behind Sam.  Sam smiled and flung an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders, Gabe was almost comically short standing next to Sam.

“You're always hungry,” Sam pointed out, ruffling Gabe’s hair fondly.

“Not the point, Samsquatch,” Gabe said, brushing his hair flat again.  Dean shook his head, pleased to see the easy comfort between the two of them.

“Alright, let's get to the hotel, then we’ll see about food,” Dean said with a smile.

 

The drive to the hotel wasn't nearly as awkward as Dean thought it would be.  Gabriel seemed all too willing to talk about himself; he was studying psychology, which was how he and Sam met, Sam was in a psych class for his sociology degree.  Sam was quiet, letting Gabe talk for the most part, and Dean caught him smiling at Gabe with an obvious fondness.  

Sam had it  _ bad _ for this Gabe kid.  

Almost instantly, Dean could see how they fit together; Sam was quiet and calm, Gabe was easily excited and talkative.  To his credit, Gabe didn't talk over Sam; the moment Sam started talk Gabe sat and listened.  

Sam’s brow started to furrow about 45 minutes into the drive, and Dean watched him closely in the rear view mirror.  Since the accident, Sam had gotten pretty bad headaches on car trips that lasted too long, the doctors couldn't really explain why, it was just something that happened.  Dean started looking at the exits on the highway for someplace to pull over when Gabe started speaking again.

“Hey, Sam, come here,” he said, gentler than Dean had ever heard from him before over their Skype calls.  Dean adjusted the mirror to see Gabe handing his brother a Tylenol, which Sam swallowed, and Gabe made a pillow out of his jacket, placing it on his shoulder for Sam.  

“Thanks,” Sam sighed in relief.  He laid down on Gabe’s shoulder, and Gabe draped the sleeve over Sam’s eyes, his hand dropping to his back.  He caught Dean watching and smirked at him.

“Watch the road,” he said, gesturing forward.  Dean just shook his head, fixing his mirror.  

Something akin to jealousy wormed its way into Dean’s chest as he drove.  For so long, he'd been the one there for Sam, through the physical therapy, through rebuilding Sam’s memory, it was him.  To have someone who didn't see Sam through all that helping care for the lasting side effects was sobering.  Dean was realizing that eventually someone else would be the one taking care of Sam.  Whether or not it would be this Gabe guy was yet to be seen, but eventually, Sam would settle down with someone, get married, start his own family; eventually, Sam wouldn't  _ need  _ Dean anymore.

Dean didn't know what upset him more, the fact that Sam would someday trust someone else like he trusted Dean, or the fact that Dean wouldn't ever find someone like that for himself.  He hadn't put much thought into having that kind of life; he'd been so focused on giving Sam his best future, Dean’s had been pushed aside.  He never looked ahead and saw himself with a spouse, with a family, he only saw himself paying off this debt, maybe buying a house near Bobby’s and just…  _ existing. _

Dean pushed all those thoughts away as they approached the hotel.  These few days were about having a good time, not having a midlife crisis.

Charlie had checked them into the Disneyland Hotel already, so Dean parked and the three of them made their way up to the room.  They’d splurged and stayed on the concierge level, Gabe and Sam both freaking out a bit when they found out, running to their window to look out over Disney property and excitedly talk about what they wanted to do.  Charlie and Dot met them for a late lunch/ early dinner at Naples Ristorante in Downtown Disney and they spent the rest of the evening exploring the shops, Gabe running around like an actual five year old and Sam hurrying to keep up.  Dean hung back with Charlie and Dot, following along behind the two younger boys with a silly grin on his face.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile like that, Dean Winchester,” Dot chuckled, latching onto Dean’s arm.  Dean’s smile faded slightly now that he’d been called out on it, but he still felt the warmth that put it there.

“Sam’s my world, Dot.  Seeing him happy, and with someone who makes him happy, that’s all I’ve ever wanted.”  She nodded, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“What about you, though?” she asked.  “Let’s say this Gabe here is  _ it  _ for your brother, what then?”  She was asking out of innocent curiosity, Dean knew, so he kept his mood light, ignoring the squirmy feeling that question put in his stomach.

“Guess I’ll figure it out when I get there,” he said.  Charlie ran up with pretzels for everyone and they all munched as they made their way back to the hotel.  Their room was one of the biggest suites, so Charlie and Dot got their own room, as did Gabe and Sam.  Dean took the couch, settling in for the night, closing his eyes and trying not to feel the absence of someone beside him.

 

Dean had no idea that theme parks could be so  _ exhausting. _  Or maybe it was just Gabe.

Either way, by the end of their four days at Disney, Dean was tuckered out, and feeling very broke.  They spent the last night up in the hotel room; Charlie ordered everyone room service, they put a movie on the TV, and planes to watch the fireworks out the window.  Sam was sitting on the couch, Gabe sitting on the floor in front of him between his legs and munching on Mickey Mouse shaped gummies.  Dean caught Sam, out of the corner of his eye, subconsciously running his fingers through Gabe’s hair.

A sudden need for air came over Dean.  

He stood as casually as he could from the chair he was sitting in, stepping over Charlie to head to the bedroom Sam and Gabe were sharing, going into the bathroom and closing the door behind himself.

Was he really getting jealous of his brother?  Had he really not thought so far ahead as to realize this would happen someday?  Sam wasn't a little kid anymore, he was an adult, and Dean couldn't pinpoint the moment that had happened.  He peed and washed up, walking back out into the bedroom, nearly jumping out of his skin when he found Gabe sitting there waiting for him, the door to the room closed.

“Easy, Dean-o, I was just kind of hoping we could chat,” Gabe said, serious for a change.  Dean shrugged.

“Sure, what's up?” he asked.  Gabe cleared his throat.

“Look, I'm grateful you’ve laid off on the big brother talk,” Gabe started.  “And while I can't guarantee my intentions towards your brother are pure,” he wiggled his eyebrows and Dean rolled his eyes, “I can tell you that your brother is something special.  You don't find a lot of folks like that.”  Gabe’s voice sobered again, and Dean nodded, pondering Gabe for a moment.

“You're good with helping him, you know, with his…”  Dean couldn't think of a word to use to describe Sam’s trauma, but Gabe seemed to understand.

“I've got a cousin who's had some issues, and she didn't have someone like you to be there for her.  Watching what she went through was rough, and when Sam told me about his accident, I swore then and there that regardless if we fell in or out of love, I wouldn't let him know her pain.”  Dean was slightly taken aback by Gabriel’s conviction, and he looked at the young man with new eyes.  Just because he didn't appear to take life seriously didn't mean he couldn't.

“You love him?” Dean asked.  Gabe’s eyes widened and the slightest pink tinged his cheeks.

“I think I might,” Gabe said thoughtfully.  Dean offered a hand to Gabe to shake, and he took it, a small smile in his eyes.

“Take care of him, okay?”  Dean took his hand back from Gabe, who winked at Dean.

“You know it.”  The door opened, and Sam walked in, looking between the two of them nervously.

“Hey, is everything alright?” Sam asked.  

“Great timing!  I was just asking Dean here if he had any ear plugs so we could do the dirty before going home!” Gabe said brightly.  Dean groaned and left the room in a hurry, Sam’s sputtering and Gabe's laugh following behind him.  

 

Dean took Sam and Gabe back to the airport the next morning, at least temporarily shaking the weird funk he'd fallen in the night before.  He thought it would be hard to say goodbye to Sam, but somehow, knowing Gabe was with him made it easier.  Of course, Dean would never let that show, bantering back and forth with Sam’s boyfriend the entire trip.  It was a pretty even match until they’d arrived at the airport and were standing in the drop off area.  Gabe said something a bit too PG-13 about their sex life, which shut Dean up and earned him a hard elbow from Sam.

“What?!  It's a compliment!  I didn't think I'd be able to-”

“Can you just stop?!” Dean grumbled.  Gabe smirked, pinching Sam’s ass before walking over to the check in counter to get in line and give Sam and Dean some privacy.

“Sorry, I just… sorry,” Sam muttered, blushing.  Dean shook his head, smiling in spite of himself and hugging his brother tightly.  

“Just text me when you land, even on your layover,” Dean insisted.  Sam gripped him tightly, pulling back and blinking quickly.

“Sure thing.  I’ll be sure to enjoy a slice of Ellen’s pie for you when I get home,” he said, a grin on his face.  Dean clapped him on the shoulder, and watched him walk over to Gabe, turning and leaving so he wouldn't accidentally cry in front of all these people.

He pulled Baby into her spot in the garage at Cas’, sighing heavily when he climbed out.

“Sorry old girl, back to your life of captivity,” he grumbled, patting her hood and walking inside his apartment.  He'd barely put his bag down when his phone went off with a text.

_ Novak: Could you come upstairs please?  _

He had  _ just  _ walked in the door, and already he was being summoned.  He took a deep breath and made his way up the stairs, opening the door into Cas’ kitchen.  The music was coming from upstairs again, so Dean followed it up to Cas’ office.  Aside from two empty liquor bottles on his desk, nothing much had changed since Dean saw him a week ago.  He looked up when Dean entered, waving him in.

“Dean, come here,” he said, standing and waving Dean over.  For a brief, terrifying moment, Dean was worried Cas was going to hug him, but he gestured for Dean to sit in his office chair.  “Read this?  Please?” he asked, pointing at his open laptop.  The notebook full of Cas’ shorthand was sitting opened, some of the pages torn out and repositioned, and when Dean sat down at the computer, he realized he was looking at Cas’ manuscript.

“How much did you get done?” Dean asked.  Cas ran a hand through his hair, which was more flyaway than usual, like he'd been doing that a lot.  Dean didn’t mind.

“Almost a third.  I've still got some kinks to work through, but I wanted your opinion.”  Dean blinked up at him, confused.

“Why mine?” Dean asked.  Cas shrugged.

“You're the only person outside my editor that I trust who will care.”  His voice was matter of fact, but Dean’s heart still thumped uncomfortably in his chest.  Since when did Cas  _ trust _ him?

“Okay, Cas, I’ll take a look,” Dean said.  Cas nodded, a sigh escaping him.

“Great, I'm going to go shower,” he waved, walking out of the room.  Dean watched him go, his brain struggling to catch up as he settled in to read.  It doesn’t take long for Dean to get lost in the story, like he always does with Cas’ writing.  

Roan is searching desperately for a way to save Nicolas, not knowing the angels had already rescued him.  After a few chapters of struggle, they find their way back to each other.  The reunion is emotional and intense, and Dean is halfway through a rather steamy sex scene when Cas walks back in, hair dripping, shirtless, sweat pants hanging dangerously low on his hips.

There's no denying it or pretending he doesn't notice it this time, Cas is fucking  _ hot _ .  He squirms as his lower half starts to notice, too, sitting up straighter.

“So, what do you think?” Cas asks.  Dean’s cheeks are heated, and he quickly tabs up a few pages, carefully avoiding looking at his boss as Cas rubs his hair down with a towel.

“Good,” Dean’s voice cracked and he cleared his throat.  “It's really good so far.”  Cas doesn't seem to notice Dean’s discomfort, walking closer and bending to look over his shoulder, the smell of his aftershave heavy in the air.   _ Fucking hell... _

“The angels are written okay?  You don't think I'm going to piss too many people off?” Cas asked, standing up once he saw where Dean had supposedly read to.

“No, I think they're a good balance.  The whole idea that they don't feel things like humans do, it's a neat twist.”

“Good,” Cas nods, draping his towel over his shoulder.   He looks at Dean, and his head tilts to the side in concern.  “You feeling okay?  If you're tired you didn't have to stay.”  Dean flushed a deeper red than his cheeks already were, standing and stumbling awkwardly to the door.

“I am a bit tired, I think I’ll head to bed,” Dean said quickly.  

“Okay…”  Dean didn't look back, just waved over his shoulder and hurried to his apartment.  Once inside, he hurried to his own shower, turning on the water and stripping quickly.   As he waited for the water to warm, he couldn’t  _ stop  _ thinking about how the water had slid down Cas’ bare chest, and his dick didn't seem to get the message about Cas being off limits.  He tried to blame it on the story, the sex scene between the characters, but then his brain supplied him with the thought that Cas had been the one that had written it, the one who thought those thoughts.  He balled his fists so tight his nails dug into his palms painfully.

Cas was his boss,  _ his boss _ ; there was no universe in which getting off to images of his boss’ damp, half naked body was okay.

He climbed in the shower and turned the water temperature back down as cold as he could stand it; eventually the cool water mixed with the mantra of  _ he's my boss  _ helped kill his erection.  He knew he'd probably pay for it later, but he just  _ couldn't  _ think of Cas like that.

His brother had texted while he was in the shower, his flight had landed in Kansas, safe and sound.  Dean sighed, pulling on some sweatpants and pacing his room.  He was filled with this weird, nervous energy, his emotions he'd kept in check for Sam’s visit, plus his embarrassing hard on we're fucking with his brain, and he couldn't think straight.  He needed someone to talk to, so he called Charlie, trying to keep his heart rate steady.

“Dean?  What's up?” she answered.

“Look, you gotta promise not to judge me, or throw me under a fucking bus, or anything,” Dean said quickly.

“I promise,” she chuckled.  “What's going on, Dean?”

“I just got a boner for Cas,” he blurted.   _ Smooth, Winchester _ .  The phone was silent for a while.

“Um, well first, a little tmi, and second, so?”  Dean stopped pacing.

“So?  That's all you have to say?” he hissed.  

“Look, you didn't…  _ do _ anything with him, right?” 

“I'm not stupid,” Dean snapped.

“Okay, so I don't see the big problem.”  Dean rubbed at his temple.  Was she being difficult on fucking purpose?!

“The problem is  _ he's my boss _ ,” Dean said angrily.  “I can't be getting hard for my boss, that's a fucking recipe for disaster.”

“Dean, you think you're the first employee in the history of ever to think their boss is hot?”  Charlie’s voice was calm, and Dean tried to calm himself to her level.

“Well, no-”

“In this town, affairs with your employer, manager, whatever, it's called ‘normal’,” Charlie explained.  “I'm not saying go screw Novak,” she said quickly before Dean could say anything.  “All I'm saying is, you need to find some way to burn off that energy.”

“You're saying I should just troll around town for a hookup?” Dean sighed.  “Charlie, that's not me.  Even back home, I dated all the women I had sex with, at least for a short while.”

“You're in Los Angeles,” she said, like it was supposed to mean something.  

“And that means what?”

“This place, it's the home of every broken dream and unfulfilled wish.  It has a way of sucking you in on promises and breaking both you  _ and _ that promise before it's done.  Everyone knows it, yet everyone still keeps coming here.  Some people, like me, love LA in spite of that.  Some people…it eats them alive.” 

“I'm just so fucking confused,” Dean sighed heavily, sinking onto his bed.

“Stop trying to make this into something it's not,” Charlie said gently.  “If you keep holding people here, and yourself for that matter, to the standards you're used to in Kansas, you're going to implode.  Just embrace it, smoke some weed, go get laid, wear a condom.”  Dean flushed.  Was that really all this was, all it boiled down to?  Pent up sexual frustration?  His head hurt like a son of a bitch from all this thinking and over thinking.

“Fine,” Dean sighed eventually.  

“Alright.  Good luck!” she called, hanging up the phone.  Dean flopped backwards onto his bed, staring at his ceiling.  Lisa’s words floated back to him,  _ don't let LA change you. _

_ Was  _ he changing?

If he went out to pick someone up, wouldn't that be what he was doing?  Dean wasn't that kind of guy, he never had been.  Maybe Charlie was right, though.  He had been unnerved since his brother left, like Sam had put this calming effect over him, and how that he was gone, his twitchy mood was back with a vengeance.  The same itch for a fight he'd had that morning with Balthazar had morphed into something else, and he was going to go insane if he didn't  _ do  _ something.

He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, making his decision.  

 

Dean walked into Psychic Pam’s, dressed in his nicest, tightest jeans and a deep green button up.  He'd even styled his hair and put on some cologne, feeling absolutely ridiculous, but at this point he didn't care.  He walked up to the bar, Pam walking up with two shots of whiskey.

“If you strike out tonight, feel free to wait till my shift is over,” she hummed with a wink.  Dean chuckled, downing the liquid courage and taking a deep breath.

It didn't take long for a string of people to come and go at the bar stool next to him, mostly women, and a couple guys, but it wasn't until he'd felt the familiar sensation of eyes on his back that anything came close to sparking for him.

Paul was over by the pool table again, leather jacket, dark hair, tight black jeans.  He made eye contact with Dean, and after a steady moment, Paul smiled slowly.  Paul leaned his head towards the door, and Dean nodded, smiling back nervously.  Dean took two more shots, not quite drunk, but just loose enough to actually get up and walk across the bar.  Dean’s heart was pounding in his chest as Paul handed his pool cue off to someone, meeting Dean halfway.  

“I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever come back here,” Paul said simply, crystal blue eyes smiling at Dean.  Dean rubbed the back of his neck.

“I didn't think I would, to be honest, but here I am,” he said quietly.  He's fucking nervous, but he manages to keep his smile steady as he offers his hand to shake, trying not to shiver when Paul’s long fingers wrap around his.  “Dean.”

“Paul.”  Paul’s hand reached out and touched Dean’s elbow gently, leading Dean from the bar and out the door.  They walked around the right side of the building towards where Dean’s car was parked.  Dean’s butterflies in his stomach had nervous butterflies, and he paused to lean heavily on the side of the bar, trying to get his heart rate under control.  “You okay there, buddy?” Paul asked, moving closer and standing  _ just  _ inside Dean’s personal bubble, smiling at him.  

“Yeah, a little nervous, I guess?” Dean chuckled.  He wasn’t surprised, Dean had only physically been with one guy before.  Paul didn't need to know that, so Dean wasn't telling, but that first time wasn't exactly the most enjoyable experience.  And here he was, starting this night the same way, a random guy in a bar.  At least he knew Paul’s name.

“Let's see if I can't fix that,” Paul said, stepping closer, and Dean instinctively widened his stance so Paul could step between his legs.  Dean suddenly felt very out of his depth as Paul leaned in, brushing his lips against Dean’s a few times until Dean returned the kiss.   _ Okay, this isn't so bad,  _ he pep talked himself.  Dean’s eyes slipped closed and Paul kissed him again, smiling against Dean’s lips.  “Whisky man, huh?” he hummed.  

“Generally, yeah,” Dean smiled, reaching out and tentatively grabbing hold of the leather jacket, pulling Paul in for a deeper kiss.  Paul’s hands settled on Dean’s hips, large and masculine, and the foreign sensation set his nerves tingling in a good way.   _ Okay, not bad at all.   _ Paul leaned into him, their bodies pressed together chest to hips, and Dean was hit with a sudden wave of  _ want. _  Maybe this really had been what he'd needed all along.

“Your place or mine?” Paul hummed against his neck.  Dean’s head fell back and hit the wall behind him, unable to speak as Paul’s five o’clock shadow rubbed along his throat.  “You still with me?” Paul chuckled, kissing his way up Dean’s neck to his jaw, pulling back to look at him.

“Yeah,” Dean coughed.  The question still hung unanswered in the air.  “Your place,” he said quickly, afraid of losing his nerve.

“Alright then, you good to drive?”  Dean nodded just before his brain tripped over the double meaning in that question.  Paul smirked and turned away to walk to his car, Dean’s eyes following his every move.

_ What in the hell have I gotten myself into?! _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow... that was a monster of a chapter, I didn't realize how long it actually was...
> 
> Soooooo as a preview for the next chapter: don't be mad at me *awkward laugh*
> 
> Please please please leave me some comments? ❤️❤️


	5. 5. Golden Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *A/N- It's funny how one has plans for updating things, but life just keeps getting in the way. With work being super busy, and with other things on my plate, I'm afraid my writing has fallen behind, and it's not something I'm proud of. My writing helps me relax and escape, so trust me when I say I want nothing more than to sit here at my computer and update for everyone!
> 
> SOME of what's been taking up my time is me and a handful of people going to Jaxcon in January are putting together a Random Acts donation to surprise Misha with at the con, as a way of both saying thank you to Misha and doing some good in the world. If you're interested in donating, every little bit helps, and if you're unable to donate, a quick share of the link on ANY social media may get us a few more donations. The name of the GoFundMe and the link are below.
> 
> Misha's Jaxcon Surprise  
> https://www.gofundme.com/mishas-jaxcon-surprise
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!!!**

_ I found a pile of Polaroids _ _   
_ _ In the crates of a record shop _ _   
_ _ They were sexy, sexy looking back _ _   
_ _ From a night that time forgot, Mhmm _ _   
_ _ Boy he was something debonair in 1979 _ _   
_ _ And she had Farrah Fawcett hair _ _   
_ _ Carafes of blood red wine, Mhmm _ _   
_ _ In the summertime, in the summertime _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Oh don't you wonder when the light begins to fade? _ _   
_ _ And the clock just makes the colors turn to grey _ _   
_ _ Forever young or growing older just the same _ _   
_ _ All the memories that we make will never change _ _   
_ _ We'll stay drunk, we'll stay tan, let the love remain _ _   
_ _ And I swear that I'll always paint you _ _   
_ _ Golden days, golden days _ _   
_ _ Golden days, golden days _ _   
_ _   
_ _ I bet they met some diplomats on Bianca Jagger's new yacht _ _   
_ _ With their caviar and dead cigars _ _   
_ _ The air was sauna hot, Mhmm _ _   
_ _ I bet they never even thought about _ _   
_ _ The glitter dancing on their skin _ _   
_ _ The decades might've washed it out _ _   
_ _ As the flashes popped like pins, Mhmm _ _   
_ _ In the summertime, in the summertime _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Oh don't you wonder when the light begins to fade? _ _   
_ _ And the clock just makes the colors turn to grey _ _   
_ _ Forever young or growing older just the same _ _   
_ _ All the memories that we make will never change _ _   
_ _ We'll stay drunk, we'll stay tan, let the love remain _ _   
_ _ And I swear that I'll always paint you _ _   
_ _ Golden days, golden days _ _   
_ _ Golden days, golden days _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Time can never break your heart _ _   
_ _ But it'll take the pain away _ _   
_ _ Right now our future's certain _ _   
_ _ I won't let it fade away _ _   
_ __ Golden days, golden days (4x)

-*-*-*-

 

Dean argued with himself the entire car ride back to Paul’s apartment.  He kept oscillating between dropping the guy off and not even bothering to wait till they were out of the car to fuck him.  Paul’s apartment complex was on the nicer side of town, the outside of the buildings fairly well kept, which meant he was probably spending a fortune on rent.  He led Dean up to his small studio apartment, one single room with the ‘bathroom’ separated by some curtains.  The furnishings were nice enough, though most of Dean’s attention was focused on the full size bed in the corner.

They made some small talk about nothing in particular, Paul grabbing a beer for each of them as they chatted.  Dean knew Paul was just trying to help him relax, and for the most part it was working.  Paul was all cool confidence, so sure of himself and what they were there for, and it allowed Dean to just relax and let him do most of the talking.  He was starting to feel okay with his decision to be there...until the beer was gone.

Paul dropped Dean’s empty bottle in the recycle bin, pulling his leather jacket off and tossing it on his couch.  Dean swallowed hard; Paul obviously spent a decent amount of time in a gym, his shoulders and pecs built and toned under his tshirt.  He walked back over to Dean where he leaned on the counter, stepping into Dean’s space like he had against the wall of the bar.  Dean’s stance instinctively widened again to accommodate the man between his legs.

“You okay?” Paul asked, dipping his head to slowly kiss a line up Dean’s neck.

“Y-yeah,” Dean gasped.  Paul rested his hands on Dean’s hips again, his thumbs slipping under his shirt to brush skin.  Paul’s lips paused at the hinge of his jaw, his breath hot against Dean’s neck.

“Dean,” the other man sighed, pulling back and pressing a chaste kiss on his chin, “I don't make a habit of accepting ambiguous consent.”  He doesn't sound angry, or upset, if anything he's slightly concerned, and Dean hangs his head, embarrassed.

“I- God, I'm sorry,” Dean sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face.  Paul takes the same hand into his, sliding his fingers between Dean’s.

“Hey,” he soothed.  “If this is too much, just say so,” Paul said quietly, taking a step back to give Dean breathing room, his hand still resting on Dean’s hip.  Dean shook his head, unable to look up at the other man.

“I don't…I'm not sure what's wrong with me,” Dean mumbled, seriously considering bolting for the door.  

“Am I your first…?” Paul asked gently, and Dean shook his head.  “Okay then...is there someone else?”  Dean shook his head, because  _ no _ .  Paul pulled his hands back to his sides, sighing.  “Look, Dean, I get it.  If you’re down for this, great, if not, no harm no foul.”  Dean was out of practice and a bit out of his depth,  _ of course  _ he'd suck at this.  Paul went to turn away, and Dean surprised himself by reaching out to stop him.  Paul raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything, letting Dean’s hand find its way to his hip.

Dean took a moment to really think about what had been bothering him, to try and put a finger on what had brought him to this point, to this stranger’s apartment.

_ Seeing Sam with Gabe, seeing Charlie with Dot, and Benny with Andrea… _

_ Balt and Meg all over Cas, while knowing he couldn’t have him... _

“I think...I think I'm just lonely,” Dean muttered quietly.  Paul hummed a thoughtful note, raising his hand to tap Dean’s chin.

“I can help with that for tonight,” he said, the tone gentle enough to take the sting out of  _ casual sex _ .  “Maybe another night or two.  But I'm not a permanent solution.  I’m not looking for that, and I don’t think you’re looking for that with someone like me.”  Dean finally looked up, some tension leaving him when he saw the easy smile on Paul’s face.  The man really was quite gorgeous, his eyes glittering as they focused in on Dean’s.

“I know,” he sighed.  “I just- I  _ need _ something, I'm driving myself crazy.”  Dean tried to keep the desperation out of his voice, but it was there all the same.  Paul stepped close again, pressing his lips to Dean’s forehead.

“Okay, Dean,” he breathed against his skin, ghosting his lips over Dean’s temples, eyes, cheeks.  “Let me help you,” he breathed over Dean’s lips, smirking as he brushed noses with Dean.  “Let me do what I do best, and I guarantee that tonight, at least, you’ll forget all about it.”

And Dean was done thinking.  

He needed this, and Paul was willingly giving it.  

“Fuck yes,” he gasped, and Paul closed the final distance between them, kissing Dean soundly.  The feel of warm lips and a warm body pressed to his was comforting, even if the other person was hard lines and tight muscles, not soft curves like he was used to.  Dean opened up for Paul, and as Paul explored his mouth Dean hummed, basking in the feel of Paul’s hands as he removed Dean’s clothes, the taste of his kiss as he lowered Dean into his bed.  

Paul was thorough, mapping Dean’s torso and ending between his thighs, going down on Dean good enough to make him see stars.  Dean’s attempt to reciprocate was sloppy and stilted, but Paul didn’t seem to mind, tugging at Dean’s hair and moaning in encouragement until he pulled Dean up to kiss him roughly.  

“Pitching or catching?” he hummed into Dean’s lips as he rocked their hips together.  Dean didn't give himself time to think about it.

“Catching,” Dean gasped out, only the smallest hesitation in his hitched breath.  

“Alright, then,” Paul purred.  Paul sat up, letting Dean settle onto his stomach, kissing his way up Dean’s spine as he crawled over his body.  

Dean had experimented with his fingers on his own, he knew what to expect as Paul opened him up.  

It still didn't change the fact that this was going to be his first time.  

Lucky for him, Paul found his prostate, and any thinking his brain was doing quickly stopped.  Paul was thorough and gentle, and once he'd lifted Dean to his knees, he slid inside with hardly any pain at all.

Paul kept himself tucked tightly to Dean’s body the whole time, whispering praise in his ear as he moved with a practiced ease.  And Dean tried to forget it was only a temporary fix, to forget the whispered words were empty of real emotion.  

They tumbled over the edge together, Paul’s hand working him expertly through every aftershock.  Paul left him to toss the condom and grab a washcloth, wiping Dean down and pulling the sheet over the wet spot on the bed.  Dean knew he'd be sore in the morning, but right now he really didn't care.  He managed to pull himself to the edge of the bed, watching Paul move to his dresser.

“You're free to stay, I don't care either way,” Paul said, pulling on a pair of sweatpants and offering a second pair to Dean.  Dean glanced at the clock, accusingly announcing the time was 2:24am.  He wanted nothing more than to just pass out, but knowing he would probably be needed in the morning, he couldn't stay.

“I would love to,” Dean sighed, stretching over the edge of the bed for his clothes, “but I can't.  I gotta be home in case my boss needs me.”  Paul shrugged, putting the extra pajamas away and moving to his kitchen as Dean dressed.  He winced when he stood, gingerly pulling on his pants.   _ Yeah, that was a new feeling. _  Paul had poured himself a glass of water, smirking while Dean attempted to tie his shoes, something that was made difficult by his...discomfort.  Dean blushed, but managed to return Paul’s coy smile.

Once Dean gathered up all his things, he looked over at Paul.  

“Thanks for tonight,” he sighed.  Paul walked over, leaning into Dean’s personal space and kissing his cheek.

“Of course,” Paul said warmly.  “Any fucking time my friend, you were absolutely lovely,” he hummed.  Dean flushed, smiling shyly, and Paul chuckled.  “Okay, stop before I have to have you again.”  Paul walked Dean to his door, and after one last hug, Dean stumbled to his car, driving home and just barely falling into bed before passing out in his clothes.

 

Dean woke to a pounding in his head, and a pounding on the stairway door.  He sat up, wincing as he stood and made his way out to his living room.

“Dean?  Dean!” Cas was calling through the door.  Dean rubbed some sleep out of his eyes and pulled the door open.

“I was wonder-” Cas’ frown faded into a wide eyed look of surprise.  Dean belatedly realized he had sex ruffled hair, a day and a half’s worth of stubble, and he had obviously slept in yesterday’s clothes.  Not to mention he probably smelled disgusting.   _ A+ job, Winchester. _

“Sorry, Cas, I had a bit of a late night,” Dean muttered, his cheeks so hot he wondered if they were glowing.

“I can see that,” Cas said evenly.  “Put yourself together, I’ll see you after my meeting,” he snipped, turning to head upstairs.

“Wait, is it-” Dean fumbled for his phone.   _ 11:34am. _  “Shit, Cas, I'm sorry, I forgot an alarm last night-”

“I’ll see you after my meeting with my editor,” Cas said coldly, turning away again, but pausing at the top of the stairs.  “You might want to tell your partners to be more discreet, in the future.”  Cas walked through the door to his kitchen, leaving Dean flustered and ashamed at the bottom of the stairs.  He shut the door and banged his head against it a couple times.  He’d never,  _ never  _ missed a meeting since he'd become a PA.  Dean took pride in being a professional and being good his job, and the disappointment in himself was making his stomach churn.

“Fucking fuck,” Dean muttered, turning for his bathroom, stripping his clothes off as quick as possible.  He felt uncomfortable in his own skin, angry with himself for giving in last night, for letting himself believe a quick fuck would make him feel better.  He wasn't mad at Paul, he'd done everything he could to give Dean an out, almost like he knew that while sex was what Dean wanted, it wasn't what he  _ needed. _

One look at Cas, and how disappointed he was in Dean, it bothered Dean on a visceral level.  Dean must look like the biggest hypocrite ever.  Dean turned on the water, wondering what Cas must be thinking about him.

His knees buckled and he sat heavily on the edge of the bed, because he was realizing Cas’ opinion of him mattered way more than it should.  

Maybe it was because of the trust Cas had shown in him, letting him see his work on his novel.  Maybe it was the subtle changes he'd seen in Cas since he'd arrived.  Maybe it was just the childish need for his boss to like him.  Maybe he was just exhausted and was blowing this way out of proportion.

Dean took a scalding hot shower, rubbing himself till his skin was raw and pink, trying to wash away the night before.  When he climbed out of the shower and dried off, he caught a glimpse of his reflection, a small bruise coloring the side of his neck.

He barely resisted the urge to punch the mirror.  

 

The working relationship between him and Cas was tense at best for the last two weeks of April.  Outside of work Dean didn't leave his apartment, not even to go to Andrea’s.  Charlie came over to check on him, but didn't stay long, his sour mood even chasing her away.

He was sorting his laundry on the last Sunday of the month when he heard a knocking from the stairwell.  

“Come in,” he called from the bedroom.  He heard the door open and close, and Cas came around the corner, red plaid pajamas and a baggy black Nike tee, his gaze drifting over the assortment of photos Dean had scattered around the living room.  It was the first time Cas had fully walked into Dean’s apartment, and seeing him there, with the mood Dean had been in lately, was a bit unsettling.

“You up for a bit of driving?” Cas asked casually, leaning on the doorframe.  Like he was trying to pretend that nothing was wrong.  Dean was keenly aware of Cas’ eyes watching him as he finished folding his last few pairs of jeans.

“Sure,” he answered, a bit stilted.  “Where are we headed?”

“It's a...pilgrimage of sorts.  A reward I give myself for all my work.”  Cas stepped into Dean’s room, walking over to his desk and looking at the more personal pictures he had placed there.  “This your brother?” he asked, pointing at a picture of Dean, Sam, and Jo in Bobby’s backyard, the week before Sam’s accident.

“Yeah, that's Sam.  The girl is Jo, our adopted sister,” he explained, dropping the jeans in the dresser drawer and sliding it closed.

“You were adopted, or she was?” Cas asked.  

“Neither, technically.  Her old man took us in when our Dad passed,” Dean answered hesitantly.  Cas nodded, his brow furrowing into his ‘thinking’ face.  “You said we were going somewhere?” Dean asked, hoping to get Cas off the topic of his family.

“Yes.”  Cas turned back to face Dean.  “I turned in my manuscript this morning, so I have a week or two before my editor is going to have any notes for me.”  Cas’ gaze finally left Dean’s photos, moving up to Dean himself.  “Every time I turn something in, I take a trip, up north and back, to unwind, step away from my work so I don't drown in it.  On the way, I hit every used record store between here and there; I'm trying to collect the top 50 albums to have on vinyl.”  Cas seemed to get nervous, tucking his hands in his pockets and glancing down at his feet.  “Given your help on this installment, and the stress I've put you through since you've moved here, I thought you might like to come with me.”  

“Wouldn't I be better off staying here?” Dean asked, keenly aware that he and Cas had hardly spoken outside of work the past two weeks.  “While you're gone I can take care of any questions your editor might have, or-”

“Dean,” Cas cut him off, an embarrassed tone to his voice.  ”Look, I’ve been a dick.  I admit it, okay?  You’ve done nothing to deserve that professionally, and personally.”  He shrugged a shoulder, his eyes trailing over Dean’s photos one more time.  “I was kinda hoping this trip would be a way to clear the air, both as employer and employee, and maybe even as friends.”  

_ Bad idea,  _ Dean’s brain decided.

_ Friends?  _ an unhelpful part of his mind replied.

“Cas, I'm not sure I should,” Dean said quietly.  Cas frowned, a puzzled tilt to his head.

“I really think you'll enjoy the trip, and I think the chance for communication will do us good,” he insisted. Dean’s eyebrows came together in confusion, and after a deep breath Cas pressed on.  “It's obvious that the places we’re having friction are due to a lack of understanding on both of our parts.”  Cas’ voice was the same logical calm it always was, but something in his words this time let Dean know that the last couple weeks had been hard on him, just like they'd been hard on Dean.

_ Again, bad idea, Winchester. _

Dean took a deep breath, absently rubbing his chin while he considered Cas’ offer.  A road trip in Baby did sound like a good idea, he'd been itching to really get her out there for a while now.  Also, if he was totally honest he was starting to go stir crazy in his apartment.  Hiding obviously wasn't going to fix whatever his problem was, and his night with Paul hadn't helped either.  Maybe some time on the open road would be good, a way to clear his head and maybe clear the air with Castiel.  

_ Still a really, really bad idea. _

“Yeah, sure, Cas.  I just need to give Baby a once over before we go,” Dean said, moving to the floor of his closet to grab his grease stained pants he used when working on his car.  Cas seemed slightly shocked that Dean wasn't putting up much of a fight, his mouth partly open as he blinked at Dean a few times.

“Okay, great,” Cas finally stammered out, ducking out of Dean’s room semi gracefully and heading back upstairs.  Dean changed his pants, grabbing his tool kit and walking out to the garage.

As soon as he got to work on Baby, Dean immediately regretted not doing it sooner.  Once he was buried elbow deep in engine grease and motor oil, all the tension he'd been carrying on his shoulders disappeared.  Baby was comfort to him, a piece of happier days when he was working side by side with his father, learning what each bit of engine did under the older man’s watchful eye.  Baby was in good shape, it didn't take a whole lot of tinkering to get her road trip ready, and with a satisfied sigh, Dean closed the hood, starting her up and grinning when her engine purred just the way it should.

“She sounds good,” Cas called, leaning against the open garage door.  Dean did a double take when he looked over his shoulder at his boss; Cas was wearing baggy jeans and a plain blue tshirt, looking practically edible in the midday LA sun.  Dean killed the engine and climbed out of the car, wiping his hands self consciously on a rag he'd tucked into his pocket.

“Thanks.  I put a lot of work into her over the years,” Dean said, tucking the tail of the rag back in his pocket.  Cas smiled, a genuine smile that Dean had only seen a few times, his eyes trailing over Baby appreciatively.

“67 right?  283 cubic inch, Turbo Fire V8?”

“Yeah, 195 horses,” Dean answered automatically, trying not to show how his entire world had just shifted slightly off its axis.  Cas looked over at Dean, raising an eyebrow.

“What?  Didn't think I'd know anything about cars?” he asked.  Dean flushed, watching as Cas walked over to the other side of the garage.  He pulled the tarp halfway off the first car, moving to lift the tarp on the second as well.  “You might say I have a fondness for Chevy's,” Cas added, a smug tone to his voice.  Dean walked around Baby and his breath caught in his throat.  Just  _ one  _ of those cars cost a fortune, and Cas had  _ two. _

“Don't look, Baby,” Dean hummed to himself as he walked closer to the first car.  

“69 Chevy Corvette L88,” Cas announced as Dean’s fingers hovered a few inches above the gold paint job, trembling slightly.  “Pain in the ass to find, they only made 116 that year.”  Dean stepped away from the car, afraid to risk touching it while he was filthy.  He walked over to the other car, his knees nearly giving out just from the red paint job alone.  “69 Chevy Camero ZL-1.”  Cas said simply, an amused almost laugh in his voice.  Dean didn't give two shits that his boss was laughing at him, he couldn't pull his eyes away from the lines of the classic muscle car.  “You should feel her when she gets up to speed, though I prefer driving the Corvette if I'm honest,” Cas commented.  Dean’s heart nearly gave out.

“You've  _ driven _ them?!” he gasped, backing up to stand next to Cas.  

“Of course.  Not a lot, but a few times.  I'll take you out sometime, if you'd like.”  Dean spun to face Cas, nearly losing his balance.

“You would?!  I mean, only if you want to take them out.  Shit, they must be beautiful under the hood…” Dean blushed and trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck absently as Cas smirked at him, pulling the tarps back up and over the cars.

“You've just met my girls and you're already trying to get under their skirts.”  Dean nearly tripped over his  _ stationary  _ feet, seeing Cas lovingly covering the two muscle cars, and making an innuendo laced joke was more than he could take.  A million inappropriate images started swirling through his head, and he began to feel dizzy.

“I'm uh, gonna go take a shower,” Dean stammered, backing slowly out of the garage, knocking into the tool bench and sending one of his wrenches skittering across the floor.  He didn't even pause to pick it up, fleeing the garage for his apartment nearly at a jog.

He stripped and crawled under the shower spray, his brain buzzing with this new revelation about his boss.  Not only was Cas sexy as hell, but he was into cars, specifically the type Dean was into.  The image of Cas stretched over the car as he replaced the tarp, the slip of skin as his shirt rode up, was also playing havoc with Dean.  Apparently his tryst with Paul didn't scratch that itch enough, because a fantasy of bending Cas over the Camaro, his lips finding those sinful hipbones, sent arousal buzzing along his skin.  

Maybe it was because Cas was unattainable, Dean’s body wanting what he simply couldn't have, that was making this more intense?  Whatever the reason, Dean set his jaw, gripping his now flushed cock in a soapy fist, and started to work himself steadily.  He allowed his fantasy to continue, undoing Cas’ pants and sucking him down against the Camaro.  Fantasy Cas’ fingers found his hair, his imagined voice whispering  _ so good for me, Dean. _

Embarrassingly quickly, he was spilling his release over his fist, bracing himself on the wall of the shower with his left arm.

“Fuck my life,” Dean mumbled to himself, leaning his forehead against the shower wall.  He’d just gotten off to the thought of sucking his boss off.  And he was about to go on a road trip with him.  Alone.  

He was beyond screwed.

He dressed quickly and packed a bag, making his way out to the Impala and tossing his bag in the trunk.  He turned to go get Cas to find him walking down the driveway, his own bag in his hand.

“Ready?” Cas asked, tossing his bag in the trunk, sliding a solid briefcase in with it.  Dean nodded, not really trusting himself to speak.  They climbed into the car, and Dean slid a mix tape into the radio to fill the silence as they pulled away.  They stopped at a Jimmy John's for a quick lunch, then were on the road again, the LA traffic keeping their pace slow.  Dean didn't mind too much, the longer he spent behind the wheel, the more relaxed he started to become.  The silence between them wasn't awkward, no outward sign of how curt they'd been the past two weeks.  Dean decided to give Cas the benefit of the doubt, after all, he'd been under pressure to turn in his manuscript for weeks.  In fact, the awkwardness between them was probably Dean’s fault, his brain making up tension where none had existed.  For all he knew, Cas had been trying to reach out, and Dean had been shutting him down for fear of offending him.  

Great, now instead of feeling nervous, Dean just felt like an ass.

It had hardly been an hour and a half, they hadn't even made it a handful of exits down the interstate, and Cas was motioning for Dean to pull over.

“Already?” he asked.  

“This is but one stop of many,” Cas explained.  Dean made the exit, and Cas directed him, eventually pointing at a tiny shopfront hidden in a bank of thrift shops and used electronics stores.  Not exactly the high class place Dean expected him to shop.

“Right over there.  We've made it,” Cas announced.  Dean parked, and climbed out, following Cas into the used record store.  The place was musty with the smell of old paper and old building, but in its own way it was comforting.   It reminded him of Bobby’s study, something Dean was familiar with.

“Jimmy boy!” came a ringing shout as soon as they walked in.

“Brady,” Cas called back, a small smile gracing his features as the middle aged blonde man started walking towards them.

“Jimmy?” Dean mumbled quietly. 

“My middle name,” Cas said with a shrug.  “Brady thought Castiel was too stuffy.”

“Damn straight,” Brady announced, shaking Cas’ hand vigorously.  “I don't think I got anything in for you this last shipment, but you're welcome to check.”  

“Thanks.  Oh, Brady, this is Dean, my new assistant,” Cas introduced them, and Brady shook Dean’s hand firmly.

“Any friend of Cas’ gets 25% off anything in the store,” Brady said with a smile.  Dean nodded, and shuffled off to peruse the collection of records, not really listening as Cas and Brady made small talk.  There were some decent albums shuffled in with all the bad ones, but nothing Dean didn't already own.  He was looking at a Blue Oyster Cult album when something Cas said caught Dean’s attention.

“...haven't seen them in a few weeks.”

“That ain't a bad thing, you know.  I've said it before,” Brady whispered back.

“I know, Brady,” Cas sighed, “but they were all I had.”

“Not anymore,” Brady answered.  Dean was staring at the album in his hand without really seeing it.  Was Cas talking about Meg and Balt?  Dean hadn't liked them or their influence they'd held over Cas, but he didn't mean for them to be cast out of Cas’ life  _ completely _ .  He considered apologizing, but he couldn't come up with a single way to bring it up without giving away that he'd overheard the conversation.  The asshole feeling from in the car intensified.

“Dean!  Come look at this!” Cas called, breaking him out of his musings.  He walked across to where Cas and Brady were standing, and Cas smiled, waving a stack of Polaroid pictures at him.  “Look what I found in this crate,” he said.  Dean moved to look over Cas’ shoulder at the pictures, and Brady chuckled.

“I'll be damned.  You know, depending on who they are, those pictures might be worth more than the records in that box,” Brady mused.

“Yeah, maybe,” Cas agreed.  The pictures were old, that much was obvious, all of the same group of people, about ten in total, high society pictures, images of them out on a yacht, at the beach, around someone’s apartment.

“Looks like one hell of a party,” Dean chuckled when Cas flipped by one, a group of three of them smiling and laughing with flutes of champagne and cigarettes, one of the only ones actually dated:  _ 1979. _

“I think it's kind of sad,” Cas mused softly.  “They didn't think about where these pictures would end up one day, or that they'd be anything other than just pictures.  There they were, probably new California transplants, here to make it big in the movies.  They probably thought it would only go up from there, that this was just a beginning, when it turns out their golden days had already come and gone.  And here we are, musing on the nostalgia of the past, looking back at their fleeting moment of hope that ended so long ago.”  He paused, his fingers tracing the edge of the photo.  “For all we know, these could be some of their only good memories, and they've been lost to the people actually in the pictures.”

Dean had stopped looking at the picture some time ago, staring at Cas as he spoke slowly and gently, an unusual amount of emotion in his voice.  Cas looked up and his eyes met Dean’s, blue eyes softer than Dean had ever seen them.

“That was beautiful, Cas,” Dean murmured.  Cas’ cheeks pinked slightly but otherwise his gaze was steady.

“Yeah, I'm tearing up,” Brady laughed, taking Dean’s words as sarcasm.  “You can keep the pictures, philosophy boy,” he added, clapping Cas on the shoulder.  At the sudden break in the mood, Dean immediately dropped his gaze from Cas’, taking a couple steps back to put some distance between them, hoping his own cheeks weren't flushing too bad.  Out of the corner of his eye he watched as Cas pocketed the pictures. 

Shortly after that, Cas and Dean were on the road again, making a quick pit stop so Cas could grab some candy and snacks.  They hadn't said anything, but the silence wasn't uncomfortable, Dean was enjoying the feel of Baby underneath him, and Cas seemed to be pondering something out of the window, the food forgotten in the seat between them.

“Can I ask you something?” Cas asked.

“You just did,” Dean answered out of reflex.

“Can I ask something else?”

“You just- yeah, go ahead,” Dean chuckled.  Cas smiled too, the joke at least wasn't lost on him.

“Do you enjoy working for me?  And you can speak freely, I won't get angry.”  Cas’ voice was honest, and Dean decided to answer honestly. 

“You've presented a unique challenge, compared to my previous work, and I've definitely experienced some culture shock.  Overall, though...yeah, I do.”  Dean smiled, his eyes focused on the road ahead of him.  “You keep surprising me, Cas.  Keep me on my toes.”  Another lengthy silence hung over the car, enough that Dean was considering apologizing for his assholeish behavior.  Cas sighed audibly, cutting Dean off before he had the chance to say anything.

“I was hoping to use this trip to get to know you a bit better, but apparently I can't even start a conversation.”  Cas sounded frustrated, and Dean tried not to laugh at how cute it was.  His brain stumbled to a halt at the word  _ cuts.   _ Dean knew, given his infatuation with Cas, that learning any more about him was probably the worst thing he could do.  Dean would eventually be fine ignoring his physical attraction to Cas, but after finding out about the cars, Dean was worried what else could happen between them.

Though apparently not worried enough to keep his mouth shut.

“Well, just start with the basics.  What’s your favorite color?” he asked.  

“Uh, red.  A dark red, not quite garnet, but not a bright color either,” Cas answered, and Dean smiled, because of course Cas couldn't just say ‘red’ and leave it at that.  “What's yours?” Cas asked him.

“Blue, I guess,” Dean shrugged.  He scanned his brain for an easy question.  “Uh… oh!  Favorite music?” 

“I’ll listen to just about anything, but for my writing I prefer either jazz or classical, depending on the mood of the scene,” Cas answered, shifting in the seat to grab something out of the snack bag.  He pulled out a bag of the fruit filled Twizzlers, pulling one out and offering it to Dean.  Dean took a bite, wincing as the super sweetness actually made his jaw ache.

“Dude, how can you eat those?” Dean coughed, catching a glimpse out of the corner of his eye of Cas munching away at his second one.

“I've got a cousin with a severe sweet tooth, he turned me onto these,” Cas explained.  Dean shuddered, handing Cas the rest of the one he'd taken a bite of, and Cas ate it.

“Your turn,” Dean said.  

“Oh, um, your favorite food?” Cas asked.  Dean smiled.

“Ellen’s homemade Dutch apple pie,” he answered without hesitation. 

“Ellen?” Cas asked.

“Jo’s mom.”

“Your pseudo sister, Jo?”

“Yeah.  I don't know what Ellen puts in her pies, but they are to  _ die  _ for,” Dean laughs, trying not to let his homesickness show.   _ God _ , he could use Ellen right now, and not just for her pie.  She was always level headed, and Dean knew one talk with her would set his conflicting emotions at ease.

“Just a little further, till our second stop,” Cas announced, seeming to sense what Dean was thinking and changing the topic.  Dean nodded, listening to Cas’ directions as he led them to the next record store on their route.  This place was just as hole-in-the-wall as the first place, but their collection was much more impressive, and Dean ended up purchasing a few records as well.  Cas stored their purchases in the empty briefcase he’d brought, and they climbed back in the car, continuing North.

The city gave way to desert and wide open spaces, and every now and again a farm was visible from the highway.  With the feel of the wind in his hair, and the miles rolling by under his Baby, Dean felt himself finally, completely relax.  Enough to let himself enjoy the moment and stop his constant worry.  

“Look, Cas, about the last couple weeks,” Dean started, keeping his eyes focused on the road even though he felt Cas’ gaze on him.  “I feel like I might have been acting a bit…”

“Childish?” Cas offered.  Dean blushed.

“Yeah.  I'm sorry I let it affect our professional relationship,” Dean finished lamely.  

“I'm sorry that I was unable to 

With nothing else to keep them busy, Dean continued the questions game.

“What made you decide to be a writer?” Dean asked.  

“My sister,” Cas answered quietly.  Dean glanced over at Cas, waiting for him to continue.

“That’s all I get?” Dean teased, trying to lighten the mood.  Cas shrugged, glancing over at Dean before turning his gaze out his window.  

“For now,” he hummed, and while Dean was curious, he held up his hand, palm up, an open to gesture he was letting it go.  “My turn?” Cas hummed, tilting his head as he thought.

“I guess.”

“Okay...what's a hobby you have?” he asked.  Dean had to think  _ way  _ too hard about that.  

“Uh, I guess the obvious, working on Baby,” he said, patting the dashboard fondly.

“Anything outside of that?” Cas asked.

“Not really,” Dean admitted.  “I mean, I used to noodle around on the guitar a bit, but it's been a few years since I picked one up.”  Cas nodded and they lapsed into silence as Dean struggled to find a question to ask.  Everything he kept coming up with felt too  _ personal _ , a little too close to the line separating ‘friends’ from ‘potentially more’.  They crested a hill, the open landscape surrounding them absolutely beautiful, and Dean finally came up with a nice, safe question.  “Least favorite kind of weather?” 

“Weather?  Really?” Cas asked.  Dean shrugged, smiling innocently, and Cas shook his head.  “I guess if I had to choose… I spent a month in Miami with some friends one summer, and I  _ hated  _ that hot, humid, stickiness.”

“I agree with you there,” Dean chuckled.  Cas smiled, tapping his finger on his knee as he thought.

“Ever have any pets?” 

“Not technically?” Dean said.  Cas’ brows furrowed in confusion and Dean laughed.  “I'm allergic to cats, and Dad never let us have a dog, but I grew up in the country, Cas.  I've worked with horses, chickens, even helped with some goats one summer.”  Cas looked over Dean appraisingly, and Dean squirmed a little under the intense stare.

“That makes sense.  Guess that can count as a yes,” Cas decided finally, turning his gaze back to the road.  Dean relaxed again, but his skin still tingled where Cas’ eyes had raked over it.  Cas’ phone beeped and he looked down at it.  “There’s an exit coming up for Kettleman City, take that one,” Cas said, tucking his phone in his pocket.  

“We’re stopping at another store?” Dean asked.  

“No, for the night,” Cas said simply. 

“But,” Dean frowned, slightly confused, “we have plenty of daylight, I'm not even that tired.”

“This is basically the last place with a hotel for miles.  If we don't stop here we won't get another chance.”  Cas’ logic was sound, Dean had never really been able to argue against it.

“Alright, whatever you say.”  Dean took the exit and, following Cas’ direction, pulled into the Best Western, which was basically the only hotel in the tiny town.  Cas checked them in, and Dean followed him up the stairs to their room.  It was actually quite nice, all things considered, clean, with new looking linens and carpeting.  Cas dropped onto one of the double beds, and Dean set his bag down on the other.

“Want to grab something to eat?  At the Denny’s?” Cas asked.  Dean shrugged, and after they both peed, they walked around the corner to the Denny’s, the desert heat still prominent in the late afternoon.  There were only two other groups in the diner when they walked in, and Dean felt a strange anonymity he hadn't felt since he came to work for Cas.  No one here knew who Cas was, no one there cared about them, they were just two passers by stopping for the night.  The waitress took their order, and Dean sipped at his water, coming up with something else to ask Cas.

“Where'd you grow up?” he asked.  “Were you raised here in California or somewhere else?”  Cas shifted slightly, hesitation in his face.  

“Massachusetts, but we moved out here when I was still fairly young.”

“Talk about culture change,” Dean chuckled.  Cas smiled, a small nervous one, fiddling with his straw wrapper. 

“My father was in advertising, he got a big promotion and, well, we went where the money was.”  Cas’ smiled faded slightly, and Dean was about to ask if he was okay when he took a deep breath and looked up to ask Dean his question.  “Speaking of culture shock, how'd you become a PA?  You don't seem the type.”

“It just kinda happened,” Dean shrugged, accepting the change in topic and moving on.  If Cas didn't want to talk about it, Dean wouldn't press.  “I needed a better job, and Ellen suggested it as an option.”  He chuckled, remembering his first gut reaction to the suggestion.  “I'll admit, I didn't see myself as the type either, but the job grew on me.  Turns out I was pretty good at it.”

“You've managed to keep me on track for almost four months, I'd say you're great at it,” Cas said quietly, sipping at his water.  Dean flushed at the compliment, turning his gaze to the table to hide his embarrassment.

“Thanks, Cas,” he mumbled.

Their food came out to the table and they fell silent as they ate.  Dean couldn't believe he was blushing like a fucking teenager with a crush just because Cas had complimented him.  He might be attracted to Cas, but it wasn't like he was hung up on him…

Then again, he'd felt pretty shitty after his night with Paul.   _ Guilty _ , almost, and not just because he'd used Paul.

No.  

No  _ that  _ wasn't possible.  

He was not going to let this get out of hand.  Cas was his  _ boss _ , and maybe his friend.  He could never be anything more.  Even if Dean wanted him to be, from what Cas had said before, he wouldn't ever see Dean that way regardless.

“You okay?” Cas asked, his eyebrow raised in concern.

“Yeah,” Dean said quickly.  Cas’ eyebrow went up higher, and Dean took a deep breath.  “I'm fine, I was just thinking,” he said a bit calmer.  

“Attempting to come up with another question?” Cas asked with a smile.  “It's hard, isn't it?  Trying to distill a person’s life and soul into a series of words.  Trying to describe everything you were thinking or feeling into a story to tell someone who has no basis of comparison for what you're talking about.  Trying to find out which words bring you closer to the truth, especially when you have no basis of knowing that truth other than my assurance that I'm not lying.  So really, am I telling you  _ the  _ truth?  Or my version of it?” Cas mused.  Dean had to take a moment to put everything Cas had said together in his head.

“Okay, that's my question,” Dean decided.  “How the hell do you do that?!” he asked with a laugh.

“Do what?” Cas seemed genuinely confused.

“All that philosophical stuff, like, you can just  _ talk _ forever, about anything.”  Dean was smiling, because he wasn't asking the question to mock Cas, he was genuinely amazed by Cas’ intellect.  The smile faded quickly when Cas’ gaze dropped to his plate, his shoulders hunching self consciously.

“I used to hide from the world a lot as a child, I'd just go to the library, pick up a book, and start reading.  I found the philosophy section one day, all these books about all the different ways to look at human existence, and I...got lost in it.  It helped me make sense of-” Cas stopped, his cheeks flushing as he pushed his plate away and stood.  “I'm going to head back, I'm pretty tired,” he said quickly, rushing away before Dean could stop him.

“Cas!” Dean called, but his boss didn't look back, just walked out the door.  Dean paid the bill when the waitress came back, leaving Denny's at a much slower pace, hoping to give Cas a few moments alone to calm down.

Dean didn't know what had happened to Cas growing up, but he knew it couldn't be good for Cas to just shut down and run off like that.  Dean tucked his hands in his pockets against the cooler evening air, arriving back at their room a good fifteen minutes later.  Cas’ bag was open, and the shower was running, so Dean kicked off his shoes and leaned back in bed, tugging his bag open.  He’d packed his Dad’s journal on a whim, and he pulled it out, skimming through the poems and the writing, reading the words in his father’s voice.

 

_ Mary’s pregnancy is going great, found out we’re having another boy.  Dean seems excited to be a big brother, even if he doesn't know what that is exactly. _

_ I find it hard to wrap my head around the idea, of knowing I've got another kid on the way, of knowing I have Mary in my life.  _

_ Will would have been 35 today.  Young kid had the world laid out before him, he never knew he wouldn’t get the chance to see it. _

_ Dean just turned 4. _

_ How is this fair? _

_ How is it fair I get to have this, and Will’s mother had to bury her son? _

 

The years hadn't been kind to John Winchester.  Between his time in the Marines and his suffering after Mary passed, he’d struggled most of his adult life.  As a child and a teen, Dean hadn’t understood that, he'd been angry or hurt at his father’s behavior.  Now as an adult, after giving up everything for Sam, and more recently after reading this journal, Dean realized his father had done the best he could.  Sometimes, there’s just some things you can’t come back from, no matter how badly you want to, and losing Mary had been that breaking point for John.  

He was so caught up in his father’s writing about his fallen friend he didn't notice Cas had left the bathroom until he started speaking.

“I didn’t know you journaled,” Cas said as he walked over to his bag dressed in gym shorts and a tank, hair still slightly damp.  Dean swallowed hard, turning his eyes back down to the journal in his hands and away from Cas.

“No, it's, uh, my dad’s,” he stammered, closing it and doing up the latch, tucking it away.   Cas tilted his head curiously, but didn’t say anything else about it as he packed his clothes and turned for bed, pulling the sheets untucked so he could climb in.

“I think it's my turn for a question,” Cas pointed out.  Dean shrugs, pulling his bag closer and unpacking his pajamas and his bathroom kit. 

“Yeah, sure Cas.  Lay it on me.”

“What’s one place you've always wanted to visit?” Cas asked, propping himself up on his elbow.  Dean feels his smile bloom across his face.

“Rock and Roll Hall of Fame,” he answered easily.  “As sad as it is, I've taken a million road trips, and never made it up there.”

“Why not?” Cas asked, his head tilt causing his shower damp hair to fall across his forehead.  

“I dunno,” Dean shrugged.  “My parents went once, before I was born, and my Dad always said he'd take us someday, he just never got the chance.”  

“Maybe you can take Sam over his summer break.”  Cas’ warm smile suddenly made Dean feel exposed, so he stood, making his way to the bathroom and away from Cas’ gaze.  Dean shut the door behind him, leaning heavily on the counter, hoping  _ that _ smile and this questions game wouldn’t be the death of him.  He brushed his teeth, peed, and changed in record time, walking back out to his bed and crawling under the covers.

“I've counted, and if we’re going to make this officially 20 questions, we each have 14 more left,” Cas announced when Dean got settled.  

“You're really keeping track, huh?  That many?” Dean chuckled, setting an alarm on his phone before plugging it in and switching off the light.

“Well, we've got a lot of driving ahead of us,” Cas said into the dark.  Dean shifted to his stomach, hugging his pillow, eyes unable to see Cas in the pitch black room.

“Whose turn is it to ask a question?” Dean asked into the quiet.  He heard Cas shift.

“I think it's yours,” he said.  Dean hummed, silent for a moment.  He wanted to ask about what happened in the diner, but that felt too personal, too intimate for the dark room.

“Where would you like to visit someday?” he asked instead, mimicking Cas’ earlier question.

“New Zealand,” Cas answered instantly.  “Charlie was watching the Lord of the Rings movies in the office one day, and when she told me the vistas were real, it peaked my interest.”

“Sure you're not just a closet nerd wanting to go visit Hobbiton?” Dean said with a smile.

“Sure  _ you're _ not?” Cas shot back.  Dean’s smile widened into a grin.

“Touché, Cas.”  Silence fell between them again.  Dean was enjoying this, learning little bits and pieces about Cas, but it was getting harder and harder to think of questions that stayed in the realm of friends and didn't cross into the  _ too personal _ .  He was already crushing on his boss’ body, he didn't need to start crushing on  _ him _ any harder.  Just when Dean thought Cas might have fallen asleep, a question broke the silence in the dark room.

“What's your favorite memory from when you were a kid?” he asked, his voice sounding small and timid in the dark.  Dean thought about it for a moment.

“It’s kinda weird that this is my favorite, but when we were real little, we got these superhero outfits one year for Christmas, mine was Superman and Sam’s was Batman.  We were out playing in the yard and, somehow, we'd climbed up on top of the shed.  I jumped, because, you know, Superman can fly.  I was 8, didn't think twice about my 4 year old brother following me.  Broke his arm, and I was so worried about getting in trouble, I took him to the hospital on my bike handlebars.”

“How is this a good memory?” Cas asked.

“I'm getting there,” Dean insisted.  “The doctors called my mom, obviously, and when she arrived I was sure I was going to get my ass handed to me.  Instead, in the most serious tone, she explained to Sam that Batman can't fly, but the good thing was that with all his bat tools, his arm would be fixed in no time.  She didn't want Sam to feel like he'd done something wrong without giving him a reason why.  She was good that way.”

“And you didn't get scolded at all?!” Cas asked.  

“Of course I did!” Dean laughed.  “But not in front of Sam.  My mom didn't want to ruin my image.”  Dean smiled softly as the image of his mother, stone faced, explained to little Sam in his hospital bed why he'd gotten hurt.  

“What was she like, your mom?” Cas asked.

“She was fierce, strong.  She wanted her boys to grow up good, you know?  Taught us how to treat a lady, how to respect people.  At the same time, she was so gentle, able to calm any nightmare, even my Dad’s wartime memories.  She had this...I don't know, this aura about her.”  Dean chuckled to avoid the lump in his throat.  “Maybe I'm just looking back through rose tinted glasses.”

“I don't think so,” Cas said, “you're such a genuinely good person, a lot of her must have rubbed off on you.”  Dean blushed at the compliment, and quickly brushed it off before it settled in his chest.

“That's a twofer, Cas,” Dean teased with a grunt.  He shook off his stroll down memory lane, trying to think of a question to ask Cas.  Well, if Cas asked him about his childhood, it couldn't hurt to ask Cas something about his, right?

“What's your favorite childhood memory?” he asked in barely a whisper.  Cas shifted in bed, the rustling of the sheets the only noise for a while.

“Me and my sister, I was 7, she was 5, we were playing in the park with my mom.  My sister was rescuing the ‘prince in distress’, and I was in a castle surrounded by a moat, or in this case a fountain.  We fell in, and at first my mom was pissed, but after a moment she…” Cas cleared his throat, “she climbed in and played with us.”  Dean heard Cas moving again, and when he spoke his voice was pointed away from Dean.  “That was the last time we went to the park before my mom killed herself.”  The regret and pain in Cas’ voice hit Dean almost like a physical blow.

Dean didn't know what to say, so he just stayed silent, closing his eyes and listening to Cas’ breathing as he drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave me a few comments and DON'T FORGET TO GO TO THE GOFUNDME! Just sharing the link can make a huge difference.
> 
> Misha's Jaxcon Surprise  
> https://www.gofundme.com/mishas-jaxcon-surprise


	6. 6. The Good the Bad and the Dirty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the gap between updates. This chapter is one hell of a chapter, and i worked it and reworked it and rewrote passages and... yeah. It's wordy, and lengthy, and I hope you guys can get through it because once we're on the other side things will be picking up like crazy!! Halfway through the story my lovlies :) I know that this is going slow for a lot of you, but hopefully this chapter will help explain some of that.

_Oh, the good, the bad, and the dirty_ _  
_ _Oh, the good, the bad, and the dirty_ _  
_ _  
_ _Truth is that it was always going to end_ _  
_ _This symphony buzzing in my head_ _  
_ _Took a market of filth and sold like summer_ _  
_ _True all of the good girls act so good_ _  
_ _'Til one of them doesn't wait their turn_ _  
_ _Turn the memory to stone and carve your shoulder_ _  
_ _Hey holy roller_ _  
_   
[Chorus]

 _If you wanna start a fight_ _  
_ _You better throw the first punch_ _  
_ _Make it a good one_ _  
_ _And if ya wanna make it through the night_ _  
_ _You better say my name like_ _  
_ _The good, the bad, and the dirty_ _  
_ _The good, the bad, and the dirty_ _  
_ _The good, the bad, and the dirty_ _  
_ _  
_ _I know what it's like to have to trade_ _  
_ _The ones that you love for the ones you hate_ _  
_ _Don't think I've ever used a day of my education_ _  
_ _There's only two ways that these things can go_ _  
_ _Good or bad and how was I to know_ _  
_ _That all your friends won't hold any grudges_ _  
_ _I got the final judgment_ _  
_   
[Chorus]

 _  
_ _And you been gone so long_ _  
_ _I forgot what you feel like_ _  
_ _But I'm not gonna think about that right now_ _  
_ _I'm gonna keep getting underneath you_ _  
_ _I'm gonna keep getting underneath you_ _  
_ _And all our friends want us to fall in love_ _  
_   
[Chorus]

-*-*-*-

Dean woke up before his alarm the next morning, rolling over and peering at the time on his phone.   _8:12am._  He turned off his alarm and rolled back over on his back, glancing around the room as he woke up.  The sunlight peeking through the curtain fell across Cas’ face, relaxed and peaceful in sleep.  His hair was a hopeless mess, sticking up in clumps going every direction, his right arm hugging his second pillow tightly.  Dean felt a little creepy watching Cas sleep, but he ignored it and just let himself indulge for a few moments.  It might be the only chance Dean was going to get for a while to just pause and admire Cas’ simple beauty, in the curve of his jaw and the crow’s feet around his eyes.  

 _When the fuck did I turn into such a sappy moron?_! Dean wondered to himself with an embarrassed smile.  Cas shifted in his sleep, releasing his death grip on his pillow and rolling halfway over, his arm draped across his narrow hip.  When the curve of those hips started to make his brain wander into dangerous territory, Dean finally shook himself out of his stupor and pushed himself out of bed.  He gathered up his clothes and shower things as quietly as possible, quickly moving into the bathroom, relieving himself and brushing his teeth before stripping down and climbing into the shower.

As Dean washed, his thoughts drifted to the deeply personal note his and Cas’ conversation had ended on the night before.  It seemed like Cas had just been trying to say it, either to get it over with, or to prove simply that he _could_ say it.  Whatever his reason, the secret had been said, there was nothing he or Cas could do about it now.  If Cas woke up regretting it, Dean could go on and pretend he hadn’t heard, there was no need, or reason, for Dean to know any more than what Cas had already said.  

Dean hadn't expected this ‘get to know you’ thing to reach that level, especially not so quickly.  Though, in hindsight, he and Cas had basically exhausted any non personal conversation they could possibly have over the past couple months.  

But why?  What had happened that Cas had decided to trust him like this?  And did _he_ trust Cas enough to talk about some of his own life?

Dean finished his shower, more confused than when he'd started it, which was never a good sign.  He dried off quickly, pulling his clothes on over his still damp skin and walked back out into the room to rouse Cas.  

“Cas?  Hey, time to get up,” Dean said quietly, nudging Cas’ shoulder.  Cas groaned and burrowed deeper into his pillow, the noise sending a pleasant shiver down Dean’s spine.  He ignored it and shook Cas’ shoulder a bit more vigorously.  “Come on, you wanted to be on the road at a decent time.”  Cas groaned again, rolling over and blinking his eyes open.  A small, soft smile tugged at Cas’ lips when he looked up at Dean, and between that and the sleepy droop to his eyes, Dean’s heart stuttered to a stop.

_God, he shouldn't be this gorgeous.  It’s so fucking unfair._

The smile faded just as quickly and Cas dug the heels of his palms into his eyes.

“Time issit?” he slurred.

“8:55.”  Dean walked back to his bed to pack, and Cas slid out of bed slowly, stumbling over to the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.  While Cas got himself refreshed and ready, Dean finished getting their things together, setting Cas’ odds and ends next to his bag.  He sat on the edge of his bed to wait for Cas, who shuffled out of the bathroom a short time later, shaved and refreshed, toiletry bag in hand.

“There's a Starbucks around the corner,” Cas muttered, voice still rough from sleep.  Another tingle spread over Dean’s skin, and he quickly stomped it out.

“Once you've changed, we’ll go caffeinate,” Dean agreed eagerly, hoping this infatuation with sleepy Cas was just his brain needing caffeine as well.  Cas walked up to his bag, dropping his toiletries in and pulling out clean clothes.  It wasn't until Cas had untied and pulled his sweats down and was standing there in nothing but boxer briefs that Dean realized Cas was changing _right in front of him._  He quickly dropped his eyes to the carpet, helpless against the blush crawling up his neck and cheeks, and considered fleeing the room.  He could have sworn he heard Cas chuckle, but refused to look up and find out for sure until Cas was fully dressed.  

“Okay, let's get a move on,” Cas sighed, dropping to sit on the bed and sliding his shoes on.  Dean looked up to see he'd put on a grey ACDC shirt that was about two sizes too big for him and a pair of dark jeans.  

He was starting to think Cas was doing this to him on purpose.  

“Okay,” Dean said, his voice a bit higher pitched than normal, but Cas didn't seem to notice.  When he was sure Cas wasn't looking, he adjusted his jeans slightly.  

Dean checked them out of the hotel and loaded up the Impala, hitting the Starbucks drive through for breakfast.  Dean gratefully took a sip of his iced coffee and, after topping up the gas tank, he turned the Impala back to the road.  

Dean flipped on the radio, classic rock filling the space between them as they ate their breakfast and waited for the coffee to kick in.  Dean debated whether he wanted to bring up what Cas had said the night before, about his mother.  The way Dean saw it, there were two outcomes: this car ride would get a hell of a lot more awkward, or he'd be opening a door between him and Cas he'd never be able to close again.  Not to mention it only felt fair that if he was going to ask Cas something so personal, he needed to be prepared to share something himself.  Cas spoke first, interrupting Dean’s internal argument.

“12 more questions.”  Cas’ voice was calm, a sharp contrast to Dean’s worry.

“You go first,” Dean insisted, turning down the radio.  If Cas wanted to expand on last night’s commentary, he could be the one to start that conversation.

“What about this car makes her so special?” Cas asked, running a hand slowly over the dashboard.  “Because you don't keep a car like her in this kind of condition without caring about her.”  Dean immediately relaxed, he could talk about Baby all day.

“Baby and I have been through a lot,” he felt the pride in his voice as he spoke.  “I learned everything I know about cars from my Dad, and we spent hours bent over this engine.  Everything, inside and out, each little nuance, I learned it.  Sammy was almost born in here, the way Dad tells the story.  Lost my virginity in here, too.”  Dean’s smile turned wistful.  “I rebuilt her from scratch after Sammy’s accident, it just didn't feel right to let her go.  She's as much a part of my life as any of my family members.”

“Lost your virginity in here, huh?” Cas asked with a small smirk, glancing at Dean out of the corner of his eye before shifting his gaze to the backseat.  Dean flushed.  

“Yeah.  Her name was Katherine Spencer.  I was 16, she was 17, and l somehow convinced her to go to junior prom together.  She was...let’s just say I was in way over my head,” Dean laughed at his own expense at memories of fumbling hands and an awkward drive home.  He turned his grin on Cas.  “Come on, pony up.  How'd you lose yours?” he asked.  Cas actually flushed a little, seemingly surprised Dean had even asked.

“It was the summer before college,” Cas started.  “I took a very last minute trip to New York City, wanting an adventure of sorts before going back to school.  I met this guy Dimitri on my first day there, ended up staying in his apartment.  He and his friend April were quite adventurous, and I, uh, well the three of us…” Cas trailed off, and Dean sputtered a bit in surprise.

“You lost your virginity during a _threesome?_ ” he gasped out on a laugh.  Cas shrugged, an embarrassed smile creeping onto his face.  

“I was reckless, I was 18, and on my own for the first time.  It seemed like a good idea.”

“So you two took turns, or what?” Dean asked before he could stop himself, sure he couldn't blush more if he tried.

“You really want to know the logistics?!” Cas laughed incredulously.  Dean shrugged one shoulder and nodded, because yeah, he was kinda curious now that it was brought up. “Well, let's just say I got stuck in the middle,” Cas shrugged.  Dean’s brain came to a screeching halt.

“You mean- you were-” Dean sputtered, rubbing the back of his neck.  Images were jumping into his mind, of Cas in that situation, and he _really_ didn't want them to, not with miles of road in front of them and no respite in sight.  He shifted in the seat, sure he was poorly hiding his… discomfort.

“I believe the word you're looking for is ‘fucking’,” Cas supplied casually, “and yes, I was fucking her, and he was fucking me.”

“Alright, just come on out and say that,” Dean laughed nervously.  Next time he was alone and lonely, he had some new fantasies to play around with, that was for damn sure.

“What?! You asked!” Cas pointed out.  There was a beat of silence, and then they both started to belly laugh.  Any tension Dean was feeling melted away at the sound of Cas’ laugh, and he realized his concern that morning was unfounded.  The worry he'd felt about the entire road trip was slowly being stripped away by Cas’ smile, and his laugh, and just _Cas._ Cas, who had hardly ever smiled, was now laughing and joking with Dean, blushing like a teenager when they talked about sex.

The chant of ‘ _bad idea don't do this’_ in his mind was fading to a whisper now.  Dean knew he was in dangerous territory, but he couldn't seem to find it in him to care at this point.  Getting to know Cas was making him happy, was helping Cas relax, and really, was that a bad thing?  He could still do this job if they were good friends.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, the miles rolling by and the warm breeze ruffling Dean's hair, Cas humming along to the radio next to him.  Eventually, Cas turned to Dean with a thoughtful look, apparently having come up with another question.  

“You identify as bisexual, right?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Dean answered cautiously, not sure where Cas was going with this line of thought.

“Can I ask about your first man?”   _Oh._ Cas’ voice was only curious, but Dean still felt nerves flutter in his stomach.  Dean’s gut reaction was to clam up, afraid he was being made fun of or judged like he had been his whole life.

But Cas wasn't like that, so Dean decided to open up, to tell him a story only Sam knew.

“Well, I grew up in the midwest, in a small town, where people aren't exactly open about stuff like that.  I think I knew, you know, how I felt, but I basically ignored it for a long time.”  Dean set his jaw, taking a deep breath.  “I got in this pointless fight with my dad one night just after my 18th birthday, and it pissed me off enough to drive a couple hours into the city.  I found myself at this bar, and in hindsight I probably shouldn't have been there, but I was angry and at the time I didn't care.”  Dean shudders at the memory.  He can still smell the stale alcohol and cigarette smoke, still feel the stickiness of the floor under his shoes, and the leers from all the men in the room.  “This guy approached me, closer to my age than most of the guys there, and I decided, fuck it: I'm going to do this.  We flirted, we kissed, I went home with him, and I fucked him, and I don't even remember his name.”  Dean swallowed down the shame that always came with those memories, pushing on.  “My whole world was turned upside down, and I... I was a complete mess by the time I got home that night.  My brother Sammy…he just- he _knew_ , without me saying anything.  My 14 year old brother sat next to me, listened to me come out, and said ‘It's okay, Dean.  I'm here, if you ever just want to talk…’”  Dean’s words died in his throat, and he forced himself to breathe.

Newer images of his night with Paul crept up on him, and he pushed those away, too, along with their guilt.

“How did your father react?” Cas asked quietly.  John had been passed out drunk by the time Dean had gotten home that night, the smell of sick and vodka in the air had been particularly rancid.

“Don't think Dad ever knew,” Dean shrugged, shaking his head to clear it.  “I made sure not many of my friends knew, either. Don't ask, don't tell kinda deal.”  

“I'm sorry,” Cas said, gently resting a hand on Dean’s arm.  Dean’s skin tingled at the touch, and he hoped Cas didn't look down to see the goosebumps.

“It's done, Cas.  I'm in a much better place now, I got past it.  Sammy was my rock, I owe him so much for that.”  

“Sam sounds like an amazing kid,” Cas said thoughtfully.

“He's a man now,” Dean chuckled, pushing out a heavy breath and sending his dark emotions with it.  “I gotta keep reminding myself of that.”  He turned his eyes from the road briefly and smiled reassuringly, Cas’ genuine smile answering back.  “And I think you used up a couple extra questions,” Dean chuckled, turning his eyes back to the highway.  Cas’ brow furrowed a bit as he thought.

“Yeah, I think you're right,” Cas nodded.  “I think I'm at...9.  You have…11.”  Dean laughed.

“You must really have a good memory.”

“For some things, nothing extraordinary,” Cas shrugged.

“Okay,” Dean hummed thoughtfully, finding a question fairly quickly.  “Why did you start collecting vinyl records?”

“Music is very important to my sister,” Cas said after a brief hesitation, his voice quiet and guarded.  “Vinyl records seem to be her favorite, and while finding albums for her, I fell into collecting them as well.”  Cas’ subdued answer gave Dean a feeling that the answer he was getting wasn't the _entire_ answer.  Again, Dean was tempted to open that door, to encourage Cas to open up, but the fragility on Cas’ face even after that half answer gave Dean pause.

“What's one quote that you've read or heard that has stuck with you?” Dean opted for a simpler question.  

“‘ _You, yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection.’_ Buddha,” Cas answered immediately.  “I know it seems sort of obvious, but for me… My life was pretty rough, and when I read that it just… I don't know, it just made me see things differently.”  Cas’ heavy sigh felt like it held the entirety of the backstory he was hiding from Dean.  “You're all caught up now,” he pointed out.  Dean glanced at a passing street sign, announcing their upcoming exit.

“Just in time, too,” Dean added.

 

Dean followed Cas’ directions to a couple more record stores, and just like the others, all the owners seemed to know Cas. They both picked up a few more albums by the end of the day, and the sun was just starting to set as Cas directed them to a Homewood.

“Where are we?” Dean asked, having stopped paying attention to city names a while back.

“Palo Alto,” Cas answered.  Dean’s fingers seemed to lose their strength halfway through lifting his bag, dropping it back in the trunk.

“Oh,” he said quietly, his world tilting on its axis for a moment as he glanced around him.  So many ‘what ifs’ were linked to this town, the future his little brother was supposed to have had.  Cas looked back at Dean over Baby’s hood, his head tilting slightly.

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, concern in his voice.  Dean took a deep breath, schooling his features and hefting the bag up on his shoulder.

“Nothing, it's just… Sam was supposed to go to Stanford,” he said quietly.  Cas’ eyes widened slightly.

“Oh.  Was it…the accident?” Cas asked cautiously.  He'd forgotten about mentioning the accident earlier, but of course Cas wouldn't.

“Man, I'm ready to hit the sack,” Dean said loudly, turning his back on Cas and walking into the lobby.

They checked in and made their way up to the room in silence, Dean dropping his things next to the couch.  Cas looked between the king bed in the separate bedroom and Dean, and if he was thinking about asking _hell no_ Dean was not going to share the bed.  That had DANGER written all over it, and even Dean’s softened feelings about being friends with Cas couldn't overrule it.  He shook his head and Cas shrugged, tossing his bag on the bed and walking back out into the living room.

“I'm sorry,” he said quietly.  Dean turned away to toss the couch cushions on the floor, unfolding the couch bed.

“About what?” he asked, walking to the closet to get the spare pillows.

“Asking about Sam,” Cas said simply.  “I understand, it was out of line.”  Dean tossed the pillows on the couch bed, shrugging, still unable to face Cas.

“It's not that it was out of line,” Dean sighed, finally turning to face him.  “Cas… some things are just too personal.”  Cas’ brow furrowed further in confusion, and Dean felt the blush rise up on his cheeks, scrambling to explain.  “This has been great, this trip, just hanging out.”

“I’ve enjoyed our talks, Dean, our time together,” Cas agreed.  His choice of words made Dean slightly uneasy, because it was that kind of intimacy Dean was trying to avoid.

“The thing is, the moment we cross into me talking about Sam, or you talking about your family, this becomes...complicated.”  Cas sank into one of the chairs across from the couch, his feet tucked up under him, almost childlike, innocent confusion in his eyes.  Dean’s heart gave a particularly hard thump.

“You're afraid the intimacy of our friendship will either affect our working relationship or cross over into something inappropriate,” Cas reasoned.  Dean nodded, relieved he understood, and sank onto the edge of the couch bed.

“Something like that, yeah.”  He watched Cas cautiously as the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes appeared while he thought about what Dean had said.

“So you're saying, we can be friendly, but not friends?” Cas finally asked.  Dean didn’t expect those words to hurt, but they did.

“I just think it might be for the best,” he agreed, hoping Cas would just drop it.  

“Why?” Cas asked, still squinting at Dean.  “Charlie holds a position of power over you and yet you and she have become close friends.”  Dean should know better, Cas wasn’t letting this go easily.  His boss could be relentless when he got like this.

“That's different,” Dean said, aware as soon as the words left he was inviting more scrutiny from Cas.  

“How is it different?” Cas continued.  “She holds just as much power as I do to terminate your employment.  She also has a profound affect on any work you'd have after leaving my employ.”  Dean scrubbed a hand over his face.  How many times was he going to have to beat around this bush for Cas to get it?

“It just is!” Dean snapped, his cheeks burning bright red now, his eyes focused on a swirl pattern in the carpet.

“Is it because Charlie is a lesbian and there's no chance of your friendship becoming more intimate, and therefore forbidden in the workplace?” Cas asked, stubbornly persistent and apparently oblivious to Dean’s discomfort.  Dean let his silence answer Cas’ question, because even _hinting_ at the possibility of something between them had his heart suddenly pounding in his chest.

He was a human being, for fuck’s sake, not some robot impervious to Cas’ blue eyes, or his soft smile, or the curve of his back, the line of his jaw…

“You realize that, should we ever engage in physical intimacy, that's all it would be, correct?” Cas said cooly.  Dean’s entire body tensed up at the matter of fact way Cas delivered that sentence.  

“That makes me feel so much better,” he muttered sarcastically.

“It's nothing to do with you, personally,” Cas insisted.  “I'm afraid that any sort of emotional relationship is out of the question for me.  I made myself a promise, and I'm keeping it.”  Dean waited to hear the pain in those words, or at least some bitterness, but it wasn't there.  Cas’ words were cold, almost _too_ cold, like he was forcing himself not to feel what they implied.

“Why?” Dean asked quietly, aware he was breaking his own rule of _just let it go_.  A conversation he'd had with Charlie came to mind.  “Are you...aromantic?”  Cas narrowed his eyes and shook his head.

“I've told you how I feel about labels,” he said sharply, “and while I'm not saying that it would be a bad thing, no, that's not the case.”  Dean felt chastised, like a child being told ‘you'll understand when you're older’, and it didn't sit right with him, so against his better judgement, and all his reasoning from five fucking minutes ago, Dean pressed on.

“Did someone hurt you?  Break your heart?”  Cas grew very still, his eyes unfocused.

“I'm afraid I've never given anyone the chance,” he said quietly.  

“You've never been in a relationship?” Dean asked in disbelief.  Cas shook his head, and Dean raised an eyebrow in surprise.  Cas was 27, and had _never been in a relationship_.

“I haven't had time, honestly,” he said simply, like it wasn't a big deal.  Dean is still trying to wrap his head around that when Cas asks his next question.  “I know you've been in relationships, but have you ever been in love before?”  Cas’ face is totally unreadable, and Dean runs a hand through his hair nervously, trying to gather his thoughts.

“Yeah, I have.”

“What was it like?” Cas asked, still watching Dean carefully.  Dean felt a trickle of nerves run down his back.

“Powerful.  Terrifying, really,” Dean answered with the first two words that came to mind.  Cas’ head tilted to the side.

“That doesn't sound like ‘love’,” Cas pointed out.  Dean swallowed hard, shrugging.

“That’s because the kind of love you see in the movies, the kind you read about in romance novels, that's not real.  Real love is putting yourself out there, laying yourself out bare and trusting, telling someone ‘this is me, _all_ of me’.  When you do that, it gives that person the power to break you.  And if they've opened up to you in return, it gives you the power to break them.”  Cas’ eyes drift as he thinks about that.

“Sounds vaguely terrifying,” he mutters quietly.

“If it's real, though, it's worth it.”  Dean huffed a small laugh, scrubbing a hand over his face and noticing he needed a shave.  “I know it sounds like a contradiction, but it's worth it to feel that way even for a little while.  It can be freeing, to know that someone _really_ sees you, and wants to be with you anyway.”  Cas seems to be pondering his words, seriously thinking about them, and Dean sighs.  “I'm not good with words, Cas, and I know I'm not the poster boy for long term relationships, but if you’ve never been in a single one, you don't know what you could be missing.  You're an amazing person Cas, anyone would be lucky to have you,” Dean insisted.  Cas blinked, eyes widening as Dean’s cheeks heated.  

_Fuck, I just said that._

He bit his lip to keep himself quiet, waiting for Cas to stop staring and just say something, sure Cas could actually hear his heart beating.  After a moment, Cas’ gaze glossed over, going completely blank, and it _scared_ Dean.  The sudden detachment was as strong as a physical wall between them.

“You're kind, Dean, but that's not quite true.”  Before Dean could open his mouth to object, Cas stood, turning for the bedroom.

“Cas, wait-” he started but Cas waved his hand to quiet him.

“Good night, Dean,” he said with stern finality, pulling the door mostly shut behind him.  Dean dropped his head in his hands, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes and wondering why the _hell_ he couldn't keep his mouth shut.

 _Because_ , a small voice whispered in the back of his mind, _because no matter how hard you try, you're falling for him._

He couldn't deny it anymore, ever since that first ride in the SUV with Cas the night they'd met, Dean had slowly been falling for his boss.

Dean changed into pajama pants and laid back on the pullout, the support bar digging into his hip as he attempted to get comfortable.  Eventually he settled on his stomach, the bar lined up with his bellybutton, the small pressure easily ignored.  He didn't really mind though, his brain was too buzzed to sleep, and he was afraid of what he'd dream about if he did.

The epiphany that he cared about Cas really wasn't surprising.  If Dean was completely honest with himself, that ship had sailed a long time ago.  His anger at Balt and Meg, his worry for Cas’ well being, they weren't coming from an employee to his boss.  His excuses to himself that he was trying to help Cas because it was his job helped him blur that line when he went above and beyond what his job really required.  

No, his crush on Cas was glaringly obvious.

What _surprised_ him was the fact that he'd basically just _told_ Cas how he felt.  

Cas’ harsh and adamant assertion that he would never care for Dean had stung like a rejection, and Dean had selfishly found himself wanting to try and convince Cas to reconsider.  He buried his face in his pillow, cheeks burning, trying to hide how fast he was breathing, to keep Cas from hearing him through the door.  That was just the story of Dean’s life, wasn't it, to fall for the one person he could never have.

It didn't help that Cas was either truly ignorant, asking Dean about being in love, or brutally manipulative, making Dean confess without meaning to.  The former was endearing, the latter...shouldn't be so fucking _hot._  Dean should be angry that Cas had pushed him into that corner, but in the end he wasn't.  Maybe now that it was spoken, now that Cas knew and he’d said it, he could move on.  Cas had said it himself, that their relationship, should Dean choose to pursue it, (because he knew Cas had no qualms about rules) would be nothing more than sex.

Dean only considered that for a brief second before shutting that line of thought down.

He couldn't do that, he couldn't sleep with Cas, knowing how he felt.  It would never be just sex to him.

Eventually exhaustion won out, and Dean drifted off for a couple hours.

 

 

Dean woke up around 7:30am, having only gotten about 3 hours of sleep, and struggling out of the uncomfortable bed.  Grabbing his shower bag, he left his clothes behind in favor of getting to the bathroom before his bladder exploded.  He pushed the bedroom door open enough to sneak through, Cas still asleep and buried under the blankets in bed.  Dean held his breath as he slipped silently into the bathroom to relieve himself and shower quickly, hoping the noise wouldn't wake Cas.  He gathered up his bathroom things and wrapped a towel tightly around his waist, prepared to sneak back out into the living room.

Cas moaning from the bed startled him into stopping with just one foot out the bathroom door.  Cas moaned again, sounding almost sinful, and Dean’s mouth was suddenly dry.  He took a couple more steps towards the door, hoping to leave Cas to whatever good dreams he was having, but the next sound from the rumpled blankets stopped him again, for a totally different reason.

“No, please.  Stop it, just stop…” Cas was muttering, even in sleep his voice sounded horribly pained.  Dean wanted to keep walking out of the room, but Cas sounded terrified, and Dean couldn't just walk away.

“Cas, hey, Cas wake up!” Dean called gently, setting his things down so he could shake Cas’ shoulder.

“No, please, she can't take it, just-” Cas cried out, latching onto Dean’s wrist so hard it hurt.  His eyes flew open, bright with terror, and after a moment he released Dean’s hand.  “Dean?!  What- what’s-”

“You were having a nightmare,” Dean said calmly, trying to get Cas to relax.  Cas looked around the room frantically, like he was remembering where he was, his eyes eventually drifting back to Dean.

“I couldn't stop it, I can't ever stop it, no matter how- how hard I-”  Cas’ eyes fill with tears and he crumbles, reaching out and instinctively grabbing hold of Dean’s forearm.  Dean sits in bed next to him, and Cas falls forward into his chest, and he _cries_ .  He's never seen Cas show this much emotion before, even when he's happy or angry, he always keeps himself so closed off, under control.  This...this _scares_ Dean, but he ignores the fact that he's wearing nothing but a towel, he ignores the sticky wetness of Cas’ tears against his skin, and he _desperately_ ignores the pounding of his own heart.  Cas needs him right now.

Cas’ sobs slow down into small hiccups, and eventually he calms enough to pull himself away from Dean, wiping his eyes and avoiding Dean’s face.

“Cas?  You okay?” Dean asked cautiously.  Cas nodded, wiping at his face and sniffing loudly.

“Sorry, I'm sorry,” he muttered, crawling out of bed and quickly locking himself in the bathroom.  The shower starts, and Dean makes his way out to the living room, using his towel to wipe off his chest and dressing quickly.  He calls down to the lobby to have breakfast sent up, and it arrives just as Cas leaves the bedroom.  Other than a slight redness in his eyes, there's no outer sign that Cas was ugly crying just an hour ago.  He slowly sits down at the table and the two of them eat in silence.  Dean doesn't even know where to begin to address what happened, so he just keeps his mouth firmly shut and watches Cas carefully.  Once the food is finished, Dean gathers up his things to leave, but Cas doesn't move from his chair.

“Cas?  You ready to go?” he asked carefully.  Cas’ eyes drift to him, focusing on his face.

“We each have eight questions left,” he said evenly.  

“Uh, okay,” Dean said, slightly confused.  Cas still hadn't moved, and Dean set his bag down.  “Unless we’re staying another night, we have to go check out,” he pointed out.  

“I already called and added another night,” Cas said plainly.  Dean was getting nervous now, unsure what to do with himself, so he sat down awkwardly.  He had absolutely no idea what Cas was thinking.

“May I go first?” Cas asked.  Dean shrugged and Cas finally moved, leaning back in his chair and tucking a leg under himself.  “When was the last time you did something just because you wanted to do it?”  Cas’ gaze was steady, calm, and it was having the opposite effect on Dean.  He was starting to feel like he had whiplash.

“Uh, the trip to Disneyland probably,” Dean sighed.  It was definitely the first time he'd taken vacation in, well, ever.

“No, that trip was for your brother,” Cas pointed out.  “I mean something for you, totally, completely selfish.”  Dean dropped his eyes to the carpet, like he hoped the answer would be there.  Racking his brain, he tried to remember something he'd done that hadn’t involved Sam, his family, or his clients.  He was more than a little surprised to find he couldn't think of anything...well, anything except Paul.   _And look how good that turned out._

“I had a crappy one nighter, a couple weeks ago,” Dean muttered, glancing back up at Cas.  Cas’ jaw twitched.

“Before that?”

“Nothing, Cas,” Dean sighed.  “I can't think of a damn thing.”  Cas didn't seem surprised.

“Is there something that you want?  Just for you?”  Dean’s mind drifted back to Kansas, back to something he'd never really put voice to, but he figured would qualify as wanting something.

“There's this little fixer upper farmhouse just down the street from my Uncle Bobby’s.  I always thought someday I'd buy it, work on making it beautiful again.”  Dean’s answer seemed to satisfy Cas, if his gentler expression was anything to go by.

“That's it?”

“I'm a simple man, Cas.  Don't need much.”  Dean managed a small smile and Cas nodded.

“Ask me something,” Cas insisted.

“Cas-”

“Ask me.”  Dean set his jaw, trying to think of something.

“Are you going to write any more books after this?  Continue the series, maybe a whole new story?”  Cas’ expression and body language closed off, like Dean had touched on something sensitive.  This time, though, Cas seemed to be fighting against it, trying not to lock himself up, and it took him a moment to answer.

“I mentioned before, that I became a writer because of my sister.”  Dean nodded to show he remembered and Cas continued.  “In a way, these stories belong to her.  Without that motivation, I probably won't keep writing.  Not unless I find something else to write for.”  

“But you're so good at it!” Dean said, blushing slightly.  “You're books are amazing, Cas.”  Cas smiled slightly, a curve of his lips.

“Thank you, Dean, honestly.  I've set aside a decent nest egg, so when this is done, I don't have to worry about money.  I’d rather leave the world with one story it loves, than taint this story with failed attempts at others.”  Cas’ expression was softer, his smile small and relieved.  “I believe it's my turn to ask a question?” Cas asked.

“Yeah, go ahead.”  Dean relaxed a bit into his own chair, glad he'd finally gotten a real answer out of Cas.

“That house you want to buy, what are your plans for it?” Cas asked.  

“Haven't thought much about it,” Dean shrugged.  “It's going to take a lot of money to just get it habitable again, but there's a barn on the property.  Might start up a little hardware store, mechanics shop, might rent the barn out to people with horses.”

“Is it a big house?” Cas asked.  

“Not as big as yours, but four bedrooms, two and a half baths.”  Dean couldn't help the smile as he brought up the picture of the house in his mind’s eye.  “If I can afford it, I'm going to knock out the wall between the dining room and the kitchen, give me a Food Network worthy cooking space.”

“That's a big house to live in all alone”, Cas said quietly.

“I imagine Sam and Jo will be over enough to get on my nerves,” Dean chuckled breathily, “and once they get married and have kids, I'm sure I'll get stuck with babysitting duty.”  Dean didn't doubt that one day Sam was going to settle down and start a family, and Jo, too.  Though Dean pitied the man Jo wound up with.  When Dean looked up from his daydream, he noticed Cas was more focused on him than before.

“So you don't want a family?” Cas asked, bringing Dean up short.  It was asked innocently, but heavy with implication.  An implication that scared him.

“Well, I haven't thought about it, to be honest,” Dean admitted.  “Never been with anyone long enough for it to come up, and with my focus being on my brother for so long, it just never occurred to me to think about it.”  Cas hummed thoughtfully, pondering Dean for a moment, their gazes locked.  Cas’ blue eyes kept his emotions well hidden, but Dean found himself fixed by them anyway, their heat shifting over his skin as Cas looked away again.

“I’m going to have my publisher schedule a stop on my book tour in Kansas, I would really like to meet your brother,” Cas decided.  Dean smiled.

“Sam will be ecstatic, but why?” he asked cautiously.

“Because the way you talk about him, and the rest of your family… they sound like good people.  Especially if they've earned so much devotion from someone like you.”  Dean blushed, rubbing the back of his neck and chuckling to cover his discomfort at the subtle compliment.  Cas was too damn good at smooth talking, even when he wasn't trying.

“Thanks, Cas.  I'll try to keep Sam from going all fanboy on you.”  Cas smiled, a small laugh escaping him.  Dean loved that smile, he realized, loved seeing Cas happy enough it broke through his normal stoicism.  It was kind of a relief to know Cas _could_ smile like this.

“What's one moment in your life you really felt alive?” Dean blurted, caught up in the moment.  Cas’ eyes shined a bit brighter as he searched his memory.

“When I got the phone call about getting published, when I knew my sister’s story was going to make it into the world.  It was...a relief,” he breathed.  A tinge of melancholy colored his words, but his smile was genuine, and Dean couldn't bring himself to look away.  This time Cas broke their gazes, looking down at his hands as his smile faded.  “Dean, I need to...I need to tell you something.”  

“Sure, Cas, anything,” Dean insisted.  Cas took a deep breath, shrinking into himself like he was trying to hide from the words he was about to say.  Dean sat up, paying close attention to him.

“I haven't told anyone this before, and I had kinda hoped you would have asked by now, but you're too good of a person to let curiosity risk hurting me.”

“Is this why you started the 20 questions?” Dean asked.  “Cas, if you wanted to talk you could just say so.”  Cas nodded, a small twitch in his fingers.

“As much as I may act like I do, I don't... have all my shit together.  And now, with my series coming to an end I…”  Cas bent both his legs, hugging his knees to himself like a shield.  The emotional highs and lows from both of them were giving Dean whiplash.

“Why me?” Dean asked, watching as Cas further broke down his wall, looking scared and... _lonely._  “You don't have anyone else,” Dean answered for himself.  Cas set his jaw and nodded.  “Cas, I'm here, okay.  You just get it out,” Dean insisted.

“My biggest regret in my life, Dean, and I've done some pretty stupid shit, is not standing up to my father.”  Cas said the words in a rush, like he was afraid if he didn't they wouldn't come out.  Once they were out he deflated, letting out a huge breath and sinking into himself.

“What did he do?” Dean asked quietly.

“My father was not a good man, Dean.  Bartholomew Novak was harsh and cruel, with a very short temper, and a kind of God complex.  He used to go into these rages and just… He'd beat my mom.  Her ribs, her back, her thighs, never where it would show, and he had her convinced she deserved it.  He made her think that because she was a woman, it was her place to be beaten by her husband, to do his bidding or be punished for it.”  Cas took a few deep breaths, trembling slightly in spite of being curled up tight in his chair.  “He would spout off this shit to me, that since I was a man I needed to learn that this would be my job someday, to have a wife, and to keep her in her place.”  Cas’ knuckles were white now where they gripped his knees.  “He never touched me or my sister but the mental abuse he layered on Anna… He was constantly calling her horrible things, always made her stand right there while my mom took her beatings.  And I could see what this was doing to my sister, who was always so kind and gentle, and I was so scared I… I couldn't do anything but watch.  I wanted to make him stop but I couldn't.”  Dean could see the tears in Cas’ eyes, threatening to spill over.  “My mom eventually killed herself, the day after Anna’s 7th birthday.  My dad left us with my grandmother, disappearing from our lives after that.  And my sister,” Cas’ voice broke, and Dean felt the pain in his own chest.  “I don't know exactly why but after a year or so she just…broke.  No matter how hard I tried to help her, I- I lost her.  Her mind is gone, now, she lives in an institution up in Washington.  She has some rare moments of clarity, but mostly it's just silly ramblings, mixed with small quiet moments.”  Cas brushed impatiently at his eyes, pushing on.  “I noticed that music helped to keep her calm, and that reading to her helped as well.  I started to write down her ramblings, linking them together in a sort of story, and when I read some of it back to her...she looked at me, not past me, not through me, but _at_ me, and she said my name, for the first time in years.”

“So you decided to write your books,” Dean breathed, a little emotional himself.  Cas nodded, swiping at his eyes again.

“She just seemed so happy, like she was relieved someone was finally listening to her.”  Cas hesitated, bracing himself with a deep breath.  “I- I haven't told anyone because I was afraid they'd see it as me being selfish, that they'd think I was trying to profit from her condition.”  Cas’ jaw set, defiant and almost angry.  “I just wanted her to know, her story was being told, that her voice was being heard.  I'd ignored her when we were kids and I- I can't make up for that but- but maybe now…”  Cas trailed off, leaning back in his chair and finally relaxing his grip on his legs.

_Well, shit._

Dean was not expecting that.  He thought his life had been hard, but at least he knew that his parents loved him.  Even when John had started to drink, Dean could see the devotion to his sons in his sober moments.   _Speaking of drinking..._

“I don't understand,” Dean said quietly.  “If your books are so important, why risk your publishing contract, risk everything you've worked for, with those parties?”  Cas chuckled wetly, wiping his face off on his shirt.

“To survive my father’s rages, I learned how to ‘turn off’ my emotions, in a way.  To just stop feeling so that it wouldn't hurt anymore.  Because when I let it…”  He gestured at himself, with a sad smile.  “I got so good at it, I began to be afraid of turning them back on.  When I was struggling to get my manuscript picked up, I met Meg and Balt.  Through them, watching them get drunk and get high and live their lives, I could pretend I was as carefree as them, I could feel their emotions and pretend they were my own.  Through them, I found a way to get by, to cope.”  Cas shrugged tiredly.  “It must have helped me somehow, because a few weeks after meeting them my book got picked up.”

“So you feel like you owe them for your getting published?” Dean asked, feeling slightly sick to hear that Cas had chosen to live vicariously through two such horrible examples of humanity.  Cas nodded, and Dean huffed a dark laugh.  “Cas, your story got picked up because it's beautiful and worth it, not because you were more personable after a few rounds of booze and sex.”  Cas flushed, shaking his head, but Dean pressed on.  “Cas, you don't need _them_ to live _your_ life.”  Dean needed to make Cas understand that he was more than who Balt and Meg made him.  “Your sister’s story is out there because of your dedication, your talent, and your love for her.  Don't let this misconception that they changed you belittle that.”  Cas’ eyes widened and his blush deepened, and Dean could practically see his mind working through what Dean had said.  

“Thank you,” Cas whispered, his eyes softening as his gaze wandered Dean’s face.  Warmth wormed into Dean’s heart.

“You're welcome.”  Dean glanced over at the clock, surprised to see it was already lunchtime.  Jumping on the excuse to give Cas time to think, and himself time to process, Dean stood and walked over to the hotel phone.

“You hungry?  I'm going to order some pizza or something,” he called, making sure his back was to Cas.  Cas had just looked at him like he'd hung the moon, and that was _not_ something he expected to see.  Ever.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Cas agreed from behind him.  Dean ordered the food, watching out of the corner of his eye as Cas wandered into the bedroom, the water starting to run shortly after.  Dean finished ordering their lunch and hung the phone up with a heavy sigh.

Cas’ backstory explained a whole hell of a lot.  About why he was so cut off from the world, about why he hid in his parties, why he viewed the world through a philosophical lens.  The guilt Cas feels must be enormous, and he'd never had anyone to help him share it.  

Dean had a fleeting moment of delusion, that maybe _he_ could be that person for Cas.  He then stomped that idea out viciously.

“Dean,” Cas called, emerging from the bedroom looking tired, but okay.  “I'm sorry I dumped all that on you.”  His hair was slightly damp around his temples from where he'd washed his face, drops of water still shining on his skin.

“No, you needed to say it, I was here to listen,” Dean smiled reassuringly.  “So, how many questions we got left?” he added with a small laugh.  

“I don't know,” Cas shrugged.  “If you want, we could just call it even.”

“No, that's not fair, Cas.”  Dean insisted, “there's gotta be something you want to ask me.”  Cas shook his head, but the curiosity in his eyes gave him away.  Dean raised an eyebrow and waited, and Cas sighed.

“What happened to Sam?” he finally asked.  Dean took a deep breath, and he told him.

He told Cas what a good man John had been, how kind he could be and how much he loved his kids.  He told Cas about how his mother’s death had broken John’s spirit, and how his father’s drinking progressively got worse every year after Mary’s death.  He told Cas about how John would start to take out some of his pain on his kids, how when he was drunk he would snap and nitpick and be angry with them for no reason.  He told Cas about how Sam and his father were so similar they were constantly at odds with each other, and how when his brother got a full ride to Stanford, his father chewed him out for choosing a school so far away.  He told Cas about how cavalier he himself used to be, how he'd date a girl for a few months then move on to the next, about how he didn't take life seriously at all and just faced the days as they came.  He told Cas about how, while Dean was out with his friends, John went to get Sam from a party after drinking just a bit too much.  

He told Cas about the accident, how his father’s chest had collapsed from the steering column, and how Sam had nearly died, and the suffocating debt that dropped on Dean’s shoulders.  He told Cas about all the hours he spent putting the Impala back together, because it was a piece of his dad, and he couldn't let it go.  He told Cas about how he'd fought to push away everyone he knew because he just hurt so damn much, about all the weeks spent in the hospital and at physical therapy alone with Sam, teaching his brother to rebuild his mind and his body.  He told Cas about mourning the person Sam used to be, about helping him learn how to function again, how to think around his brain trauma.  He told Cas how proud he was of Sam when he got into JCCC, about being accepted at KU next semester.

He told Cas _everything,_ things he'd never told another soul before.

In the midst of all this, the pizza guy came, and Dean ate while talking, Cas eating in silence until Dean finished.

“Losing your father like that, Dean I'm sorry,” Cas said quietly.  Dean settled back in his chair.

“I lost Sam too- not literally of course, but the Sam from before the accident.”

“What do you mean?” Cas asked.  

“He changed after the accident, due to his brain injury.  He's still Sammy, still kind and gentle, but he has some different quirks, slightly different personality.  The doctor said it's normal for his type of injury, but it was still unsettling.”  Dean smiled sadly, old memories being dragged to the surface.  “Sam was going to breeze through law school, was ready to leave our small town behind.  Now, he's probably going to be stuck in Lawrence for the rest of his life.”  He had never voiced that thought out loud before, because no one back home would want to hear it.

“Dean, you didn't make your father get in that car, you didn't make him drink.  Why do you feel so guilty?”  Cas _understood_ , and Dean ran a hand through his hair in relief.

“I don't know, I guess I feel like...if I just had _cared_ more, if I had been home instead of out, maybe I would have been able to talk my dad out of driving that night.  Maybe Dad wouldn't have drank so much in the first place.”  Cas stood and cleaned up their mess, throwing out the trash and wiping down the table.

“You need to let go of the guilt,” Cas said quietly, glancing at Dean with a knowing look in his eye.  Dean stood, walking over to help Cas put the couch back together.

“So do you,” Dean replied quietly.  Cas didn't say anything, but sat down on the couch, his feet tucked under him and picking up the remote.

““Let's see what's on.”

They watched _Animal House_ , since it was starting about when they turned the TV on, Dean belly laughing at the crude humor almost the whole time, and Cas chuckling every now and again.  It was… _nice,_ just sitting there with Cas, in their respective spots on the couch, watching a movie.  Especially after the loaded conversation they'd had that day, he needed some stupid humor to get his mind to relax.

Dean kept glancing furtively at Cas out of the corner of his eye, watching his reaction to the movie.  Now that Dean had spent nearly a full 24 hours alone with Cas, talking about things they'd both kept buried for so long, it was like he was seeing him for the first time.  His hair was perpetual flyaway, any semblance of order was simply Cas attempting to get it to lie flat.  He dressed casually, jeans and tshirts or cotton button ups, but he never really seemed comfortable in anything less than slacks and dress shirts.  Cas shifted on the couch to settle in deeper, his legs still tucked close to his body.  He always sat like that, closed off from the world, and Dean wondered how he'd never noticed it before.

The thing about Cas that drew Dean in the most was the small hesitation whenever Cas would smile.  Dean knew now, that Cas was afraid to let himself feel happy at risk of letting his guilt in as well, but in that hesitation, Dean saw it.  Cas _wanted_ to feel it.  He wanted to be happy just as much as Dean wanted to see him happy.

Being good friends with Cas didn't seem like such a scary idea as it had before today.  Yeah, he was still hot as fuck, and Dean wasn't going to get over that anytime soon, but he felt like he could handle it now.

 

They had another delivery for dinner (Chinese), and watched another silly movie ( _Young Frankenstein),_ neither saying much to the other, just enjoying each other’s company.  When the movie ended, Cas stood and walked back towards the bedroom, pausing just as he got to the door.

“I had a good day,” he mused, leaning on the doorframe and smiling at Dean, his hands tucked in his pockets.  

“Yeah, me too,” Dean agreed with a smile.  Dean stood and set up the bed again, hyper aware that Cas was standing there watching him, and Dean felt a light blush dust his cheeks.

“I hope this doesn't change anything,” Cas finally said.  Dean straightened and looked back at Cas with an easy smile.

“Cas, if anything, it's changed for the better,” he assured him, throwing Cas a wink to downplay his nerves.

“So you’re no longer worried about our friendship interfering with our business relationship?” he asked.  Dean shook his head, grabbing his toothbrush and his pajamas.

“Honestly, Cas, I'm good.”  He steps closer to the door to head to the bathroom, and Cas steps aside to let him pass.

“Okay,” Cas sighs, like he was holding his breath.  Dean gets ready for bed quickly and passes Cas with a smile and a nod on his way back to the couch.

“Good night, Cas,” Dean called.  Cas looked up and smiled back without hesitation, making Dean’s heart stumble a beat.

“Good night, Dean.”

Dean managed to get comfortable on the sofa bed again, adjusting his position to avoid the support bar and dropping off to sleep almost immediately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo I hope this made sense.... I promise we'll get into Destiel soon, but I feel like Dean needs to take his time with this, and Cas has a lot of crap to sort out.
> 
> Comments and kudos perhaps?


	7. 7. Victorious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!!
> 
> Adulting is hard and has been kicking my ass, not to mention I've been getting ready for Jaxcon and working on a GoFundMe for Misha and then friends and family holiday stuff....
> 
> Anyway I hope this was worth the wait, enjoy and leave me plenty of comments!! Even if you didn't enjoy it! :)

****_Tonight we are victorious_   
_Champagne pouring over us_   
_All my friends we're glorious_   
_Tonight we are victorious_   
_Oh-oh-oh, Victorious, Oh-oh-oh_   
  
_Double bubble disco queen headed to the guillotine_   
_Skin as cool as Steve McQueen, let me be your killer king_   
_It hurts until it stops, we will love until it's not_   
_I'm a killing spree in white, eyes like broken Christmas lights_   
  
_My touch is black and poisonous_   
_And nothing like my punch-drunk kiss_   
_I know you need it, do you feel it_   
_Drink the water, drink the wine_   
  
_Oh we gotta turn up the crazy_   
_Livin' like a washed-up celebrity_   
_Shooting fireworks like it's the Fourth of July_   
_Until we feel alright, Until we feel alright_   
  
_I'm like a scarf trick, it's all up the sleeve_   
_I taste like magic, waves that swallow quick and deep_   
_Throw the bait, catch the shark, bleed the water red_   
_Fifty words for murder and I'm every one of them_   
  
_My touch is black and poisonous_   
_And nothing like my punch-drunk kiss_   
_I know you need it, do you feel it_   
_Drink the water, drink the wine_   
  
_Oh we gotta turn up the crazy_   
_Livin' like a washed-up celebrity_   
_Shooting fireworks like it's the Fourth of July_   
  
_Tonight we are victorious_   
_Champagne pouring over us_   
_All my friends we're glorious_   
_Tonight we are victorious (x2)_   


_Oh we gotta turn up the crazy_   
_Livin' like a washed-up celebrity_   
_Shooting fireworks like it's the Fourth of July_   
_Until we feel alright, Until we feel alright_   
  
_Tonight we are victorious_   
_Champagne pouring over us_   
_All my friends we're glorious_ _  
_ Tonight we are victorious

-*-*-*-

 

Dean was pacing in Cas’ living room, one hand rubbing his temple, the other squeezing his phone so tight he was afraid it was going to shatter.  He was getting real fucking tired of all this.

“I understand Roman is coming down on you, Hannah-”

“That is the understatement of the century,” Hannah scoffed.  Dean didn't blame the poor assistant for her angry tone, and didn't take her misdirected anger personally.

“It's not fair to Cas, you know it's not.”

“I know Dean, but the deadline is August 31st.  We’ve already started pre-orders.”  

They had barely been home from the road trip for two hours when Dean was called in to pick up Cas’ physical copy of his edited manuscript.  Cas had taken it and disappeared into his office for the next two months, Dean hardly seeing him at all except at brief meals that Dean usually ended up cooking for the two of them.  When Cas finally emerged, he was so relieved, like a huge weight was lifted off Cas’ shoulders by the resolution of his story.  Cas’ beaming smile when he finally told Dean _it's finished_ was forever etched in his memory.

Then the phone calls from the publisher had started to come in.  Mr. Roman wanted a love affair written into Cas’ book, to boost notoriety and in doing so boost sales.  Cas had refused, and Dean refused on his behalf, but they still kept calling, and now they were threatening Cas’ royalties.  It was starting to wear Cas down, his original defiance starting to wear thin.  Cas couldn't tell them that Anna’s story was worth more to him than any money he'd ever make, and only Dean could see how much he was hurting.  All Dean could do was try and defend him as best he could.

“The amount of rework he’d have to do, not to mention how much overtime his editor would have to put in-” Dean continued to argue.

“I get it, Dean, I do, but my hands are tied.  Mr. Roman won't budge.  I'm sorry.”  She really was, Dean could hear it in her voice.  Dean took a deep breath.

“Me too, Hannah.  I'll make some phone calls.”  He hung up, barely resisting the urge to throw his phone across the room.  The classical music from Cas’ study had stopped two weeks ago, replaced by the heavy beat of electronica, which Dean knew would be coming from his bedroom instead. Dean climbed the stairs, walking down the hall to Cas’ room, knocking loud enough to be heard over the music.

“Let me guess, Dick is being a dick,” Cas called.  Dean opened the door to find Cas lounging on his bed, a tumbler of bourbon in his hand, scratching absently at the beard he’d grown in.  Cas hadn't shaved since getting his edits back, and after three months he was on the verge of looking homeless.

“He's still adamant about you making the changes.”  Dean watched Cas take a big sip of his drink, scowling at the glass as he swallowed.

“Mother fuckers just can't deal with this being the end.  They want me to write myself into another book,” Cas grumbled bitterly.  

“I'm sorry, Cas.  I know what this means to you,” Dean said quietly.  Cas took a deep breath, downing the rest of his drink in one swallow, grimacing at the burn of the alcohol.

“I know you're trying, Dean.  Thank you for that,” Cas groaned.  Dean hesitated while his brain scrambled to come up with something to say, to try and improve Cas’ mood.

“Look, I can make us some lunch, we can finish off the last Terminator movie,” Dean offered.  Cas seems to be considering it when his phone vibrates, and after glancing at it with a smirk he starts typing back a response.

“Call Benny, I’m going see Meg.”  Cas announced _._  He gently brushed past Dean to the bathroom, pausing to squeeze his shoulder before closing the door behind him.  Dean’s stomach sank to his feet.  Cas had apparently decided Dean’s company wasn't enough this time.  Dean scrubbed a hand over his face, resigning himself to his worry, shooting Benny a text as he walked back downstairs to his apartment.  

_You: Cas needs a ride._

_Benny: Where to?_

_You: Meg’s.  I couldn't stop him today._

_Benny: Chin up man, you can't win them all._

Cas was frustrated, Dean didn't blame him, but a trip to Meg’s usually involved Cas getting high, drunk, or both, generally until he passed out and Benny brought him home to be carried inside the house by Dean.  Dean was hoping to talk Cas down before he got to this point, but he should have known when he saw the Bourbon that it was a lost cause.  Dean was feeling the effects, too.  When Cas’ exterior would crack, letting Dean see the raw pain that he already knew was there, Dean’s chest would physically ache.  Mostly because there was nothing he could do to help.  

Dean collapsed on his living room couch, waiting in silence until he heard Cas leave in Benny’s car, his breath coming out in a shaky sigh.  He should have just told Cas to stay, told him how hard it is for Dean to watch him do this to himself.  

But he can't, because after three months of genuine, open friendship, he had fallen hopelessly head over heels for Castiel.  

Dean doesn't show it, he's very careful about that, but when he goes to bed at night, he feels it.  When he has to carry Cas to bed because he fell asleep at his desk, or he's too drunk to stand.  When he sees Cas talking on the phone with his sister’s caregivers, a beaming smile on his face when they tell him she's doing well.  When Cas smiles softly at him as they talk about Roan and Nic’s romance.

Dean _feels_ it.

Nothing in his life is as simple as it used to be.  Working, paying bills, and talking to Sam used to be enough for Dean, now he feels uncomfortable in his own skin.  The city feels too big, the people too unfamiliar.  Charlie has fully embraced the struggle that is life in LA, and when she and Dean hang out, it's all Dean can do to keep up.  It's not that he doesn't enjoy their time together, but he just lacks the energy and the drive to keep up with the LA lifestyle.  It feels like something's missing, and Dean is starting to figure out what.

He doesn't want _more_ , he doesn't want adventure or excitement; Dean finds himself wanting less.  Money isn't an issue anymore, with his ridiculous salary.  He hadn't really been paying attention, but when he went to set aside enough for Sam’s upcoming spring semester, the number of zeros at the end of his bank account had reminded him the entire reason he'd left for LA in the first place: Sam's future, not his own.  Once he'd taken care of Sam’s school costs, he'd paid off the last of the medical bills, still leaving himself a decently full savings account.

The little farmhouse by Bobby’s was coming to Dean’s mind more and more often.  

Except he didn't see himself living there alone anymore, waiting on Sam and Jo to visit with kids.  No, now, during his most secret dreams in the middle of the night, Dean saw himself with _Cas_.  

He saw himself working in a garden, or on the car, Cas sitting on the porch writing in a notebook, or waving at him from the window of the den.  He could see them lying together on their couch, bundled under a blanket in the winter, or blissfully naked on a hot summer day.  Dean could even close his eyes and see Cas cooking in their kitchen, Dean standing behind him and kissing his neck, untying Cas’ apron with his teeth and-

Dean shook the thought out of his head, not for the first time that week.

He craved a simple life of domesticity for the two of them, a life he'd never even wanted before.  And every time Cas leaves for Meg’s, or one of his rare but still present parties, Dean’s hope for that life shatters.  Cas will never be happy with the simple life, he's too much like Charlie, addicted to LA.  Meanwhile, Dean craves that simplicity so much it hurts; there's no way they'd work out happily.

With Cas headed to Meg’s, Dean needed an emotional break of his own from all of his baggage, something to distract him.  He pulled out his phone and sent Charlie a text.

_You: Come over?  My parents aren't home._

_Charlie: Haha, but you're shit outta luck on that front._

_You: Come over, because you miss my face?_

_Charlie: Better. omw._

_You: thanks._

_Charlie: Resident evil or Mario Party?_

_You: Resident evil_

Charlie always seemed to know the best ways to cure whatever mood Dean was in, she could even read him through text message.  Dragging himself to his feet, Dean busied himself frying up some burgers in a pan for lunch while he waited.  Charlie let herself into Dean’s apartment just as he finished plating the sandwiches.

“Hey, Charlie,” he sighed tiredly.  She dropped her things on his couch and immediately walked up to him, wrapping him in a tight hug.  Dean went to push her off him, but she squeezed tighter.

“Shh, wait a moment,” she insisted.  Dean gave in and wrapped his arms around her, and she refused to let go until the tension in his shoulders relaxed.  “That's better,” she said, letting him go with a small smile.  “Okay, what's going on darling?” she asked, helping herself to a plate and hopping on Dean’s counter to eat.  Dean took a bite of his burger, gesturing upstairs with a tired wave as he chewed and swallowed.

“Cas’ publisher,” he grunted.  Charlie frowned, tilting her head to ask what was wrong while she chewed.  “You've read Cas’ books right?”  He half smiled as she nodded excitedly.  “Okay, so Nicolas and Roan are together, but Nic has been dragged to hell, you know that much from the last book.”

“Ooh, am I about to get spoilers?!” she tittered excitedly, taking another huge bite of burger, her eyes wide.  Dean rolled his eyes.

“Please don't get me fired,” he groaned.  She mimed zipping her lips shut, but her eyes were wide and eager.  Dean shook his head and continued.  “So Nic gets rescued by...someone,” he dodged the exact spoiler and ignored Charlie’s pout.  “The publisher thinks it would be compelling for Roan and the rescuer to have an affair, for Roan to fall in love with him and be torn between the rescuer and Nic.”

“That sounds like great drama,” Charlie said cautiously.

“It is, and normally I’d agree with you.  But it's not what Cas has written, nor is it what he wants.”  Dean took a bite of food to give himself a moment to think.

“Roan and Nic are my OTP,” Charlie said thoughtfully, “I don't want to see them hurt, and I'm sure a lot of readers feel the same.  Plus, the way Cas’ books are written, there's not a whole lot of room for the soap opera kind of stuff.  Why is the publisher so focused on it?”

“Cas wants to wrap up the series with this book, and they don't want him to,” Dean explained.  “Cas also feels it would be untrue to his characters for Roan to cheat with the rescuer, emotionally or physically.  I agree, to be honest.  After reading the manuscript-”

“Lucky bastard!” Charlie gasped.  Dean waved his hand dismissively.  Little did she know he'd practically co-wrote parts of it.

“After reading it, I feel like it's perfect the way it is.”  They eat in silence while Charlie thinks.  Yeah, Cas puts his characters through some hard shit, but in the end, Roan and Nic have settled down together, the happy ending that so many stories don't get anymore.  Dean may or may not have even shed a tear or two when he reached the end, and provided Cas keeps his promise, no one will ever find out.

“You said it wouldn't make sense for Roan to cheat?” Charlie asked.  Dean nodded.

“It's more the other character.  The rescuer isn't really designed to fall in love, so it would be forcing something on a character not built for it, forcing Roan to go against _his_ character, and taking away the ending Cas has planned.”  Dean could hear the bitterness in his voice that hadn't seemed to go away lately.

“This whole thing doesn't make sense,” Charlie frowned.  “These books have got to be Mr. Roman’s cash cow, why risk it?”

“Because he's a fucking dickbag, that's why,” Dean shrugged, finishing his lunch and putting his plate in the sink.  “Come on, let's shoot some zombies,” Dean sighed, gesturing towards the TV.  Charlie shoved the last of her burger in her mouth, washing her hands and getting the game ready.

Dean tried to focus on the game, but his thoughts kept drifting to Cas, wondering what he and Meg were getting up to, if he was sober or if he was already stoned out of his mind.  Dean didn't ask about what they got up to, so Cas didn't talk about it, but Dean can pick up on the subtle clues in Cas’ body language and inebriated nonsense.  Dean jealously hopes Cas is mostly sober, because when he is, Cas usually doesn't sleep around.

After Dean’s third time getting his head ripped off by a zombie, Charlie paused the game.

“You're not here right now.  Should I leave a message at the tone?” she teased, giving Dean a soft smile tinged with concern.  Dean set his controller down, scrubbing his hands over his face.

“I'm not here, you're right,” Dean grumbled.  “And it's ridiculous, I shouldn't be this out of focus.”

“It's just a game,” Charlie pointed out.  

“No, I mean-” Dean gestured vaguely, “like, in real life.  I'm just tired, I guess.”  

“Tired of what?”

“I’d tell you if I knew.”  Dean ran his hand through his hair, trying to keep a hold on his frustration.  Dean startled when Charlie suddenly hopped up off the couch.

“Hmm,” Charlie hummed, squinting at Dean while pacing back and forth a couple steps.  Dean watched her cautiously as she stopped and walked up to him, resting her hand on Dean’s shoulder fondly,  “I think I know what you need,” she announced.

“Yeah?  What's that?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow up at her.  She winked at him before smiling knowingly and spinning on her heel.

“When was the last time you talked to Sam?” she called over her shoulder as she skipped into Dean’s bedroom.  Dean frowned, trying to remember.

“Uh, about two weeks ago?” he said slowly.  Charlie returned with his laptop, sitting next to him with Skype already open.  “How did you get my login for my laptop?” he asked, dumbfounded.  Charlie rolled her eyes like the answer was obvious.

“I didn’t ‘get it’, I hacked in,” she admitted, dialing Sam.

“You hack- really?!” Dean grunted indignantly.  “Isn't that some sort of invasion of privacy?”

“What?!”  She shrugged, her eyes wide with innocence.  “Got some kinky porn you want to hide from me?” she teased.

“Okay, I do not need to know,” Sam said from the laptop.  The call had connected while she and Dean were talking, and Dean blushed as his brother’s face came into view.

“Shut up, Sam.”

“Hey, you're the one who called me,” Sam laughed.

“Dean’s moping, we need to cheer him up,” Charlie announced, leaning in front of Dean to wave at Sam.  Dean playfully shoved her out of the way.

“Heeeeey, that sounds like something I can help with!” Gabe’s familiar voice chimed in, and his head popped up from the bottom of the screen.

“Oh, god, please tell me you didn't just come from where I think you came from,” Dean groaned, rubbing his eyes.

“Easy, perv, I was sitting on the floor reading, since Samsquatch was taking up the whole couch,” Gabe smirked.  Sam reached around and put his hand over Gabe’s mouth, a slight blush coloring his cheeks.

“What's going on, Dean?” Sam asked.  Dean gave his brother, and by extension his brother’s boyfriend, a brief rundown of what he'd told Charlie.  As he talked, Gabe’s face got uncharacteristically serious, and he was the first one to speak when Dean was finished.

“Let me guess, Cassie is wallowing in booze and booty instead of doing anything about it?”  Gabe’s voice was almost angry, and Sam smacked Gabriel on the shoulder.

“Okay, rude much?” Sam scolded his boyfriend.  Dean was beyond confused by Gabe’s reaction, because he'd left all of that out of the story, he hadn't even told Charlie.  Not to mention the familiarity with the nickname Gabe had used.

“How do you-”

“Is he?” Gabe asked again.  Dean nodded, not sure what else to say to that.  Gabe scoffed, pulling out his phone and leaning out of the frame.

“I just don't know how to help,” Dean admitted, ignoring Gabe’s quirky behavior.  “I can't seem to get through to him.”

“I'm sorry, Dean,” Sam sighed, also shooting his boyfriend a confused look, but leaning in to focus on Dean.  “I don't want someone influencing Cas’ books, they're amazing just the way he writes them.”  Dean almost smiles at the sense of pride he feels when Sam praises Cas’ writing.

“He doesn't deserve this, he deserves so much _more,_ and I don't…” Dean trailed off, scrubbing a hand down his face.  “I’m not good at all this politics crap, you know?”

“You never have been,” Sam chuckled, and Dean rolled his eyes at his brother.  

“I just want to help him,” Dean sighed.  Charlie gasped next to him, her hand flying to her mouth.

“Oh no, Dean,” Charlie sighed.  “Is this about, you know, what was bothering you?  Before?”  Charlie's question was vague, but Dean’s body still tensed up, realizing his slip a bit too late.

“What was bothering you?” Sam asked before Dean could answer her.

“Nothing!” Dean snapped, glaring at Charlie.  He felt Sam’s disbelieving eyes fall on his face, and Gabe even sat up to look at the screen.  Dean flushed scarlet, burying his face in his hands.

“Winner winner, chicken dinner,” Gabe chuckled, and Dean didn’t have to see his face to know how smug his smile was.  “Sam, your bro has a thing for his boss.”  Dean kept his face hidden, unable to bear meeting Sam’s eyes.  Dean told Sam everything, just as Sam trusted Dean with anything.  This was a big secret to keep from his brother, and Dean didn’t need that guilt, too.

“You do?” Sam asked quietly.  Dean just nodded into his palms.   _So much for keeping it to himself_.

“Come here,” Charlie sighed, wrapping her arms around Dean’s neck.  He allowed himself to be pulled into a half hug, his hands dropping from his face to his lap, his eyes focused downward.  

“Why didn't you talk to me?” Sam asked.

“Or me,” Charlie added, running her hand over his back soothingly.

“Because I wanted it to go away,” Dean sighed, his voice muffled by his hands.  “And I didn't exactly want you all to know.”

“Did you think we would judge you?” Sam asked.  Sam wasn’t angry, but there was a bit of hurt in his voice, and Dean swallowed guiltily.  Dean shook his head.

“No, Sammy, I know you wouldn’t.  I just… I couldn't face it.”  Dean finally raised his eyes to meet his brother’s, and was surprised to see an amused smile.  He was going to have to talk to Sam alone as soon as he had the chance.

“Not that I'm not enjoying Dean’s adorable humiliation,” Gabe interrupted, “but it's not like the publisher can _make_ Cas do anything.  They're just throwing a hissy fit, simple as that.”  Dean felt the tension in the group break, and had never been so grateful for Gabe’s ADHD.

“Really?” Charlie asked.  “I thought there was something in his contract?”  Sam’s face lit up in epiphany.

“That’s right!” Sam exclaimed, planting a kiss on the top of Gabe’s head happily.  

“I'm always right,” Gabe hummed cockily.  

“I remember now,” Sam said, excitedly.  “There was a guest lecture about copyright law in my criminology class this summer.  Unless Cas’ agent was a total douche, the publisher doesn't have any control over the creation of the story.”  Dean’s embarrassment was forgotten.  This could give Cas, and Dean by extension, some much needed peace of mind.  Dean pulled back from Charlie to look down at her.

“You hacked into my computer, could you get into Cas’?” he asked.  She rolled her eyes.

“Bitch, please,” she smirked, cracking her knuckles and pulling her phone out of her pocket.  She joined the Skype call and propped her phone up on the table, grabbing Dean’s computer and closing Skype to do... well something Dean didn't understand at all.

“What's going on?” Gabe asked.  Dean picked up Charlie’s phone to point the camera better.

“Charlie’s doing something nerdy,” he explained, getting an elbow to the ribs for his smart remark.

“Is Cas’ computer on?” she asked.  

“Yeah, he leaves it on,” Dean nodded.  Charlie’s eyes narrow knowingly before her fingers start to fly over the keyboard, and Dean gives up watching.

“Is she pulling up Cas’ contract?” Sam asked.  

“Yes, I am,” Charlie grinned, tapping away at the computer.  “Okay, searching for the publisher section…stand by please,” she said, eyes skimming the screen.  Forgetting for a moment her phone had Skype open, Dean’s hand began to droop as he eagerly watched Charlie work.

“So, what's the verdict?” Gabe called from the phone.  “We can't exactly see what’s going on.”  Dean lifted the phone again, pointing it at Charlie.  She looked up with a huge grin.

“It's true, Cas can officially tell the publisher to suck it,” Charlie giggled.  Dean’s heart leapt into his throat, but he kept his smile small.  No need to let them all know just how far gone he was on the guy.

“Told you so!” Sam called.  “Good thing, too, I've already ordered my copy.”

“Come on, Sam, you know I could have hooked you up with a signed copy,” Dean laughed, feeling lighter than he had in weeks.

“You can pay me back by taking my copy to Cas to get signed someday,” Sam laughed.  

“Deal,” Dean agreed.  He couldn’t wait for Cas to come home so he can tell him the good news.

_Whenever he decides to come home._

Dean's happy mood deflated slightly.

“Thanks Charlie, Sam… and Gabe I suppose,” he sighed with a small smile.  

“You are most welcome.  And don’t worry, one day I’ll be calling in this favor.”  Gabe yelped as Sam shoved him out of the video frame.

“You’re welcome, Dean,” Sam said with a small smile.  Dea suddenly felt incredibly _tired._

“I think I'm going to catch up on the sleep this has been depriving me of,” he sighed, rubbing at his eyes.

“Aw, but we hardly played,” Charlie whined from next to him.  

“And I _know_ you haven't seen enough of my face yet,” Gabe called.  

“Bye, Gabe.  Sam, I'll call you later,” Dean said to the phone.  Sam’s smile was understanding, and he nodded as Dean hung up, handing Charlie back her phone.

“I'm leaving RE here, you owe me,” Charlie insisted, turning off Dean’s computer.

“I promise, Charlie.  Just let Cas get this damn book released and we’ll kill zombies for three days straight.”  Dean stood and walked her to the door, giving her a tight hug.  She smacked a kiss on his cheek, smiling at him warmly and bouncing out the door.  

Dean rubbed his eyes tiredly.  He hadn't been kidding when he'd said he was exhausted, so he turned off the lights in his living room, grabbing his laptop and making his way to his bedroom.  Dean plugged his phone in, and before he set it down, he quickly sent Cas a text.

_You: Hey, I've got some great news when you get home._

He was not so secretly hoping that the subtle hint might bring Cas home early instead of him spending the night at Meg’s, but there was no guarantee Cas would even get the message.

Dean stripped out of his jeans, grabbing his laptop and crawling into bed in his tshirt and boxer briefs.  Adjusting his pillows to get comfortable, he pulled up his bookmarked real estate website for Lawrence, scanning over the listing for the little farmhouse.  The price hadn't changed since the last time he'd looked, still a little more than he felt comfortable spending, but it was getting more attainable.  He looked through photos of the property, picturing in his mind’s eye where he'd put the 8ft fence along the back property line, what kind of roof he'd install in the barn, the color he'd paint the exterior of the house itself.

His eyelids grew heavy, and with an image of a family barbecue swimming through his mind, he drifted off to sleep.

 

 

The feeling of his laptop being pulled from his hands stirred him into half wakefulness, not enough to make him open his eyes, but enough to make him aware someone was there.  The smell of Cas’ Old Spice drifted through the air as the person moved away, and Dean sleepily took a deep breath, letting it out in a heavy contented sigh.  

“Cas…”  He heard Cas putting his computer down, and moving back through the darkened room; Cas must have turned off the light.  The sheets being pulled out from under him disturbed him enough that he blinked one eye open.

“Wha-?” he croaked.

“Shhh,” Cas whispered, gently rolling Dean enough to get to his bedding, his hands warm through the fabric of Dean’s tshirt.  Cas didn't smell like alcohol, or smoke of any kind, and Dean felt himself smile.

“You came home,” he said simply.  Cas chuckled softly, tucking Dean’s blankets up to his chin.

“Course I did, you said you had news.”  Cas’ voice was soft, and Dean struggled against the sleep that was clinging to his brain, wanting to hear more of that voice.

“I do, wanna tell you-” Dean insisted, but Cas’ gentle hand pressed against his shoulder, and Dean was too tired to fight it as the pads of those fingers trailed over his neck.

“It can wait, Dean,” Cas insisted, and Dean caught a glimpse of a small smile through his half closed eyes.

“Want you to b’happy,” Dean slurred, the warmth of his blankets and as’ presence pulling him back under.  He barely heard Cas whisper one last thing as he drifted off to sleep.

“I know.”

 

 

Dean woke up slowly, stretching with a satisfied sigh.  Grabbing his phone, he hit the home button to check the time.   _3:08am_.  Dean glanced over at his computer, plugged in on his desk, and memories of Cas tucking him in came back to him slowly.  He had no idea when Cas had come home, if it had been right after Dean’s text or hours later.  Dean felt his cheeks warm at the memory of fingers on his skin, longing swelling in his chest.  He would give just about anything to have that every day, and having it just for those couple moments magnified that feeling.

He dug his fists into his eyes, climbing out of bed and pulling on a pair of cotton pants.  He might as well see if Cas is still awake, and tell him the news he promised.  He climbed the stairs, the bottom floor of the house still and dark, and Dean walked over to the second floor stairs, climbing quietly.  The light was on in Cas’ room, and he made his way towards it, noticing the door was slightly ajar.

“Cas?” he called softly, tapping lightly on the wood of the door.  

“Yeah?” Cas answered.  Dean pushed the door open to see Cas laying in bed, no shirt on, blankets pulled up to his hips, hair damp from a shower.  He was reading a book, and as Dean walked in he slid a bookmark in place and put the book on his bedstand.

“Hey, sorry about passing out, I guess I was kinda tired,” Dean chuckled.  Cas shrugged, the muscles flexing beneath his skin, and Dean found himself wishing Cas would pull the blanket up higher.

Or lower, that would work too.

“What is it you wanted to tell me?” Cas asked.  Dean pulled his gaze away from Cas’ body, focusing in on his face instead.  

“Well, I went through your contract while you were gone, just to see if there was something we could do about Mr. Roman,” Dean explained, hoping against hope Cas didn't ask him _how_ he got the copy of his contract.

“I'm assuming you found something?” Cas asked, tossing the blanket back to stand up, revealing a pair of basketball shorts hanging much too low on his hips.   _Focus, Dean_.

“Yeah, there's actually a clause in your contract, he technically doesn't have any power over the story itself.”  The relief that lights up Cas’ eyes makes Dean’s heart nearly burst against his ribs.  “So if he does do something in retaliation it's a breach of contract, and we can sue him for a shitload of money.”  With a grin, Cas rushes forward and wraps Dean in a hug, Dean’s hands instinctively coming up to wrap around Cas’ bare torso.  

“Fuck yes, finally something going right,” Cas laughed into Dean’s shoulder, his breath brushing the skin on Dean’s neck.

_Shitshitshit._

Dean forced a laugh to avoid any other more embarrassing noises, hoping Cas wouldn't see how badly he was freaking out.  He had an armful of half naked Cas, his nose so close to being buried in awesome smelling hair, and only a few thin layers of cotton separating everything important.  Matched with the gentle way Cas had cared for him earlier, Dean’s self restraint was short circuiting.  

 _Want_ didn't justify the urge coursing through him.  No, it was reaching the level of _need._  

Luckily for Dean, the hug only lasted a few moments, Cas releasing him with a hearty pat on the back and turning back for his phone on the nightstand.  Dean adjusted himself as quick as he could.

“What do you say we go down to Dick’s office in person later this morning?” Cas asked, his back still to Dean as he typed something on his phone.  Dean thought briefly about rubbing his hands over the exposed planes of skin in front of him and pulling Cas’ warm body flush against  his own… He violently shook the thought out of his head.

“Yeah, sounds good.  I'm uh, going to go shower, catch up on some emails since I'm awake,” Dean said in what he hoped was a casual voice, backing slowly toward Cas’ bedroom door.

“Alright!  Hey Dean?” Cas turned to look at Dean over his shoulder, a huge happy smile on his face, and Dean nearly swallowed his tongue as he froze.  “Thank you,” Cas said simply.

“Anytime, Cas,” Dean said, retreating as calmly as possible.  Once he was out of sight he fled down both flights of stairs, not relaxing till he closed his bathroom door behind him, leaning on it heavily to catch his breath.  Glancing over, he caught sight of himself in the mirror.  His color was high on his cheeks, and his hair was disheveled with sleep, but the situation below his waist wasn't quite noticeable through the cotton just yet, thankfully.  Cas probably didn't even notice, he'd probably been too busy planning his _fuck you_ speech to Dick.  

Dean wanted to say he felt relief at Cas’ ignorance, but he knew it was a lie.  He had sort of _wanted_ Cas to see, because if he had, he might have done something about it.  Dean felt his half-hard cock give an interested twitch, and he turned from his reflection in shame.  

Was he really so pathetically lost on the man?  So much so that he'd wanted Cas to take advantage of him?   _Actually_ , Dean corrected himself sadly, _you know at this point you'd probably take anything that man would give you._

He stripped, starting the water to the shower, his shame quickly joined by guilt.  His body didn't care, though, his cock perking up quickly in anticipation, achingly hard by the time he stepped in the hot water.

Unable, or unwilling, to fight it, Dean let his mind wander through a fantasy scenario as he soaped up his fist and took hold of himself.

_Cas looking at Dean hungrily as he sees how hard he is.  Walking closer to cup Dean through the cotton pants, kissing him rough, possessively.  Pushing Dean back on his bed, demanding Dean strip as he watches._

Dean bites his lip to keep from moaning, the addition of a ‘dominant’ imaginary Cas making the heat spread faster through his body.

_Cas pulling his cock out into the air, demanding Dean take care of it.  The scent of sex and musk as Dean does, licking and lavishing attention as best he can.  Cas pulling Dean off of him and bending him over the bed roughly._

A moan escaped Dean this time, a hot pulse of want shooting through his nerves as he imagined what it would be like to be manhandled by Cas.

_Cas preps him, but only just enough to not hurt him.  Dean feeling himself split open as Cas slides home, the burn welcome and intense._

Dean hastily props a foot on the side of the tub, quickly coating a finger on his spare hand in saliva before sliding it down behind him to his entrance.  He sinks his finger inside, unable to stop his groan as he finds his prostate.

_Cas fucking him hard, enough Dean knows he'll be bruised tomorrow.  Cas coming inside him, pulling out and leaving him used and exposed, bending to breathe little praises into his ear as he begs Dean to come._

“Cas!” Dean grunts as his body tenses up and he comes _hard_ , cock pulsing and walls clenching as Dean strokes his prostate to the point it starts to hurt.  One his body relaxes, he stands still, letting the water beat against his skin, washing the evidence of his weakness down the drain.  He quickly finishes his shower, feeling worse than before he’d started it.

Dean has no idea where that fantasy came from.  He'd never given much thought to that fantasy before, and it caught him slightly off guard. He didn't even know if Cas enjoyed things like that in bed, but maybe Dean had picked up subtle hints in his personality that his conscious mind hadn't even considered.

Not that he'd ever find out.

His orgasm high faded into regret as he turned off the water and toweled down, wrapping it around his waist and stopping by the sink to shave and brush his teeth, letting the menial task of grooming distract him from his guilt.  Checking his reflection in the mirror, he absently ran his fingers through his hair.  He’d let it get a little longer than usual, so he grabbed his electric clippers off their charger, carefully grooming the sides of his hair down a bit shorter, but leaving the top as it was.  When he finished, he used a hand towel to wipe off the shaved hair, turning his head back and forth to check the results.  Satisfied that he hadn’t mutilated his haircut, he cleaned up the counter, taking a deep breath and walking out of his bathroom.

“About time you finished, I’ve been waiting-” Cas’ voice comes to an abrupt halt the same time Dean does, his boss standing in the doorway of his bedroom with two drinks in his hands, Dean in nothing but a towel, skin still flushed from the hot water and his...activities.  Dean’s cheeks heat up immediately, getting that sick to his stomach feeling that he’d been caught doing something wrong.  “Oh, sorry, didn't know you wouldn't be dressed,” Cas chuckled, setting one of the drinks on the desk and stepping out of the room.  “I thought we could celebrate a bit.  Once we tell off Dick I’ll be officially finished with this book.”  Cas continued to talk to him from outside the door, and Dean shuffled into his closet, dressing faster than he had in his entire life.

“Uh, yeah,” Dean coughed, taking a couple moments to try and breathe.  “I uh, I still have some work to do, though.”  He walked out of his closet, moving over to his desk to pick up the drink that Cas had left there.  “You can come in,” he added, even if he’d rather Cas stay out of eyesight.  “What is this?”

“Mimosa,” Cas shrugged, stepping back into Dean’s room.  “I had a couple of bottles of champagne, figured now is as good a time as any.  I stuck one in your fridge, by the way.”  Dean took a sip, watching cautiously as Cas walked into Dean’s room.

“You can use the bed if you, uh, want to sit,” Dean mumbled, dropping into his desk chair and turning on his computer.   _Calm down,_ Dean scolded himself.  Cas was bound to notice something was wrong if Dean kept acting like an awkward teenager.  

“Nice haircut,” Cas adds from behind Dean.  

“Thanks.”  He kept his eyes focused on the screen as he hears Cas settle onto his bed.  

_Calm.  Down._

“So, what are you doing?” Cas asked.

“Work,” Dean answers, wincing at how curt he's being.

“Duh.  I mean, what specifically?”  Per usual, Cas is totally unphased.

“I'm, uh,” Dean paused, taking a sip of his drink.  “I'm trying to coordinate your book tour with your publicist.  I keep your schedule sorted, monitoring for time to travel and rest, and they give me venues and dates for interviews and signings.”

“Really?” Cas asked.  “How come I don't hear about all that?”

“Well, it's in your paperwork,” Dean pointed out.  “My packet I got before arriving?”

“What packet?”  Cas’ confusion makes Dean turn to face him.

“Seriously?  You don't know?”  Cas shrugged and Dean gestured at his file box on the floor.  “Your instructions, how long you're willing to work, how much time you want between cities, what compensation you want… you don't remember any of this?”

“I do,” Cas hummed thoughtfully, “but I only dictated those once to my agent and my first PA, years ago.  I didn't know you were still using the same file.”  

“You didn't-” Dean just stared in open mouthed shock.  “So you don't take any control over, well, anything?”

“Well, I wouldn't say that,” Cas chuckled.  “I can be very demanding in the right...situation.”  He wiggles an eyebrow at Dean, a shiver running down Dean’s spine as he takes another swallow of his drink to mask his discomfort.  “I just stopped caring about those little details ages ago.  The books are what’s important.”  

“Well, those ‘little details’ are what keeps me employed,” Dean explains, huffing a small laugh and turning back to the computer.  He hears Cas shuffling around on his bed, and in spite of his session in the shower not even thirty minutes ago, his lower half perks up in interest.  Dean has never felt more betrayed by his body in his life.

“Sorry I seem so ignorant, I've never really become friends with any of my PA’s before,” Cas said casually.  

“If I had known I could have gotten away with a lot more,” Dean joked.  He risked a glance over his shoulder, Cas was propped up against his headboard, over the top of Dean’s comforter, but still nestled against his pillows like he belonged there.  It was doing weird things to Dean’s stomach, so he turned away again, pulling up the most current itinerary.  “Here, want to look this over?” he asked, printing it out and walking it over to Cas.  He took it thoughtfully, handing Dean his empty cup.

“Thanks.  Mind getting me a refill?”  Dean nodded, taking his and Cas’ cups out into his kitchen, quickly downing what remained of his.  He hoped he didn't seem too eager to get out of the room and the temptation Cas made laying on his bed.  Yes, Cas was fully dressed in normal clothes this time, but Dean could easily take those off…

_He's your fucking boss._

He ran his hands through his new haircut, wishing he could just relax into the simplicity of their friendship.  Dean’s teenager like feelings were running the risk of screwing all this up.

Dean pulled the champagne out of the fridge, mixing them each another mimosa, and returning to his room.  Cas was scribbling something on the list Dean had given him, and Dean tried not to think about where Cas would have searched for a pen.

“Think we could make those changes?” he asked, holding the paper out as Dean handed him his drink.  Dean scanned down the sheet as he sipped, pausing when he noticed what Cas had done.  He smiled, a little ball of happy blooming in his chest at the gesture.

“Cas, I appreciate it, but we don't have to leave an entire week between the stop in Kansas and the one in Cleveland,” Dean sighed.

“I know.  But you haven't seen your family in a while, so I figure this is the perfect way to fix that.”  Cas is smiling, pleased with himself, and Dean tries not to read into it.  After all, this was just Cas doing a favor for his friend, for his PA, nothing more.

“Thanks,” he sighed, turning back for his computer.  “Let me send a few emails to work on changing the schedule around.”

“Mind if I watch?” Cas asked.  “Kinda curious about what exactly you do.”  Dean shrugged, sinking into his desk chair and opening his Gmail.

For the next couple hours, Dean sent emails and made some phone calls, all with Cas watching over his shoulder.  Thankfully, with the time difference, some of the people in the Midwest Dean needed to coordinate with were already at work.  By the time he was done finalizing the schedule, it was time for Mr. Roman’s office to open.

“Alright, ready to go kick Dick in the dick?” Cas chuckled, rubbing his hands together excitedly.  Dean laughed, shutting down his computer and pulling his shoes on.

“Want me to text Benny?” Dean asked.

“Already did,” Cas called, climbing the stairs back up into the house proper.  Dean smiled, climbing the stairs behind him, waiting by the door as Cas put his shoes on and grabbed a jacket.  Benny arrived a few minutes later, and they were on their way, Cas practically shaking with nervous excitement, chatting with Benny animatedly.  Dean was nervous as well, but he kept it to himself, sitting quietly next to Cas.

He's nervous about confronting Mr. Roman, but it's overshadowed by what he's feeling for Cas.  Dean wants to hold Cas’ hand as a sign of solidarity, wants to kiss the cocky grin off his face, to _physically_ share in Cas’ joy.  Dean doesn't read into the mimosas, Cas was just trying to include Dean in a celebration that he feels belongs to both of them.  

But they aren't _them,_ and that's Dean’s problem.  

Cas leaps from the car almost before Benny pulls to a stop, rushing for the doors of his publishing office.

“He gonna be alright?” Benny chuckled.

“I hope so,” Dean laughed.  “Mind sticking around till this is over?”

“See you on the other side,” Benny laughed, waving as Dean climbed out of the car.  Neither of them said anything as they rode up the elevator, Cas sharing a small smile with Dean before closing his eyes and breathing deep to focus.  When Cas stepped out onto Mr. Roman’s floor, his entire demeanor had changed, cool confidence practically oozing out of him.  Matched with his dark button up and his blazer, he was the picture of masculine sexuality.

Hannah was at her desk, her eyes wide when she saw Cas strutting towards her with purpose.  Dean couldn't tell if it was surprise or oogling, but he was hoping for the former.

“Mr. Novak,” she stuttered, “I didn't think we had an appointment-”

“Is he in there?” Cas demanded.  She flushed, standing and wringing her hands nervously.

“Y-yes, but-”

“Awesome.  I need to see him.”  Cas moved past her for the door, Hannah chasing after him.

“But Mr. Roman-”

“Hannah,” Dean called gently, and she turned back to Dean, looking confused and a bit terrified.

“Dean, what's going on?” she gasped as Cas grabbed hold of the door handle, tugging the heavy office door open easily.

“Just...stay out here,” Dean insisted with a calm voice.  “And please don't call the cops,” he added in a whisper, chasing after Cas while she sputtered behind him.

“Hello, Dick.  We need to talk,” Cas announced loudly, standing squared off with his arms crossed over his chest, right in front of Mr. Roman’s desk.

“Castiel,” Richard chuckled, his surprise barely evident in his raised eyebrow.  “What a pleasure to see you.”  He leaned back in his chair, his gaze glancing over Dean briefly before focusing on the author in front of him.  The man was well dressed to the point of being overdressed, and he had the air of a man used to getting his way.

“Wish I could say the same,” Cas sighed, sounding almost bored.  A muscle in Richard’s jaw twitched.

“What is it that has you bursting into my office this early?” he asked, crossing his hands on his desk.

“You're releasing my manuscript to the printers,” Cas stated simply, his voice even and controlled, a sharp contrast to the Castiel from the car.   _And so much fucking hotter,_ Dean groaned in his head.

“Did you make the changes we requested?” Richard asked, his smile oily and ingenuine.

“Course not.  You're going to give it to them as is.  Marv gave his okay.”  Richard laughed humorlessly.

“Maybe our position wasn't clear,” he sighed.  “No changes, no printing.”

“Why should I let you violate my contract?” Cas barked on a laugh.  Any trace of civility dropped off of Richard’s face.

“That's a serious allegation, Castiel, I wouldn't make it lightly.”  

“I'm not.”  Cas took two steps forward, pulling a folded piece of paper out of his back pocket, and tossing it at Richard.  “That's the page out of my contract that basically renders you impotent.”  Richard picked it up, skimming over it quickly, and Cas smirked as Richard’s face turned angry.

“Mr. Novak-”

“Oh, didn't think I'd read that before?” Cas purred, raising an eyebrow at his publisher.

“My mistake,” Richard spat.  “I didn't realize that trying to make you more money would piss you off so much.”

“It's not about the money,” Cas sighed, “it never was.”

“Oh right,” Richard snorted, throwing the paper away as he stood and walked around the corner of his desk.  “Your precious Anna you've been dedicating all these books to.”  The mood in the room cooled to sub zero immediately, and Dean’s adrenaline started pumping.  No fucking way was this guy going to talk about Cas’ sister and come away unscathed.  “Who is she, anyway?  A secret lover, an old flame?  Maybe it's really Andrew, now that would be a story for the papers.”

Cas was moving before Dean could even get angry, his foot hooking behind Richard's ankles, knocking his feet out from under him, shoving him onto his back and pressing on his chest with his foot.  Dean’s jaw dropped open, still frozen in place behind Cas.

“Don't you _ever,_ mention her name again,” Cas growled darkly, blue eyes sparking with a fury Dean had never seen in a human being before.  The color left Dick’s face (yeah, the nickname fit), and the fear Dean saw there was genuine.  

A strange, choked off noise came from Dean's throat, and he hoped to all that was holy that Cas just took it as surprise.  

But it wasn't.

It was further confirmation that Dean Winchester had an unknown domination kink.  A button that Cas was currently pressing with the scathing glare aimed at Dick _._

Cas turned and stalked out of Dick’s office, and the moment he passed, Dean adjusted himself in his jeans, positioning his rather rapidly developing erection to be hidden by the crease of his pants.

“Mr. Novak, that- that was…” Hannah hurried up, her eyes wide in shock and Cas tilted his head, waiting for her to finish.

“Assault?” Cas offered.  She shook her head, jumping on him and giving him a hug, Cas awkwardly hugging her back.  A flare of possessiveness swelled through Dean’s already heightened emotional state, and he felt his ears turn bright red.  He really had no right to feel jealous, except for the fact he wanted to be the one hugging Cas.  A twitch from below the waist reminded him what a _bad_ idea that would be right then, and he tugged at his pant leg.

“That was amazing!” Hannah gasped.  “It's about time someone stood up to him!”  She giggled, letting Cas go and bouncing over to her desk.  “As soon as your book is done, I'm handing in my resignation.  You've just empowered me Mr. Novak.”  Dean watched Cas’ eyes track her movement, and he decided being jealous wasn't a bad thing after all, since it was killing his boner…

“Well, I'm glad something good came from this.  Hopefully he won't press charges,” Cas sighed, giving Hannah a small half smile.  She smiled back, ducking her head and tucking her hair behind her ears.

“I'll see what I can do,” she hummed, looking back up briefly to grin at Cas.

“You think you could give me the number of his lawyers?  And yours while you're at it?” Cas asked, leaning on her desk, and she blushed, tapping away at her phone and jotting down the information.  Cas wasn't blind, he _had_ to see she was flirting, right?

“You can call me whenever you'd like, it doesn't have to be during business hours,” she said quickly, pushing the business card with the numbers into Cas’ palm.  Dean’s stomach twisted in on itself.

_Oh, for fuck’s sake._

“I'll meet you at the car,” Dean announced, turning on his heel and heading for the elevator, jabbing the button hard enough to hurt his finger.  He and Cas weren't anything, he was Cas’ employee.  He had no right to feel like something was clawing its way through his insides, no reason to feel bitter because his boss was flirting with a pretty woman.  The jealousy had effectively taken care of his problem below the waist, at least.

Cas walked up just as the elevator arrived, stepping in next to Dean.  When the doors slid closed, Cas sucked in a deep breath, letting it out on a long heavy exhale.

“Wow, that felt _really_ good,” Cas laughed.  He nudged Dean’s shoulder.  “Hey, what's wrong with you?  Too many mimosas?”

“Something like that,” Dean grunted.  Heartache was the same as stomach ache, right?

“Sorry, that's probably my fault.”  Cas leaned over, looking at Dean a bit closer.  “You sure you're okay?” he asked, concern weaving its way into his voice.  

No, Dean was decidedly not okay.

“Yeah, Cas, I'm good.”  He forced himself to smile at Cas, to meet those amazing blue eyes that would never look at him the way he wanted them to.  “I just need a Tums or something, and some food.”

“Okay,” Cas said slowly, rubbing Dean’s back a few times until the elevator doors opened.  “Let's have Benny take us somewhere to eat, then we can discuss my book release with my publicist, sound good?”

“Sounds awesome, Cas,” Dean agreed with a bright smile.  Cas dropped his hand and stepped out of the elevator, Dean following behind, confidence in his step, but pain in his heart.

 

 

After a brief lunch with Benny, and a productive meeting with Cas’ publicist, Dean’s mood had greatly improved.  In the end, Cas was still his friend, and now that the drama with Dick was finished, Cas was back to his usual self, pleasant and philosophical, the Cas that Dean cared about so much.

The entirety of the book tour was planned out, all the city stops and events Cas would be attending, as well as a big media party at the end of the tour in Cleveland, Cas splurging and renting the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.  Dean didn't bring it up, but he also didn't forget that he'd told Cas he'd always wanted to go there.  Still, it would be ridiculous to think Cas would plan the party just for _him._

Later that afternoon, Dean and Cas were hanging out in Cas’ living room; they'd just finished Terminator and were arguing about the accuracy of time travel as it was portrayed in the movie.  In the thick of their discussion, Cas’ phone rang, and he excused himself to answer.

“Hello, Hannah,” he said, smiling slightly.  Dean listened as they talked, trying to keep his heart from sinking.  “Yeah, yeah sure...Sounds great...okay, bye.”  Cas typed something out on his phone before he got up off the couch, patting Dean’s shoulder as he walked by.  “I'm going to get dinner.  This discussion is not over,” he added, stopping by his door to slip on his shoes.

“Okay,” Dean said casually.  “I've got some laundry to do anyway.”  He stood and turned for his apartment door.

“I mean it, Dean, I still haven't made my point,” Cas insisted, pointing sternly at him.  Dean chuckled, holding up his hands palms out.

“Okay, okay.  I just think you can't stand letting me have the last word,” Dean added with a wink.  Cas frowned at him.

“That's what _you_ think,” Cas huffed, walking out the door, letting it swing shut behind him.  The silence in the house was stifling, and Dean made his way downstairs, sorting through his laundry on auto pilot.  

Cas was allowed to go on a date, he was a grown adult who wasn't in a serious relationship.  Hannah was pretty, not Dean’s type, but her pale skin and dark hair contrasted nicely, and she wasn't bad to look at.  Yeah, the two of them going on a date was a totally normal, acceptable thing.

Dean blinked hard, nearly laughing at himself when he felt the pressure building behind his eyes.  The pile of shirts in front of him began to blur through his repressed tears, but Dean refused to give in and let them fall.  It was ridiculous, he shouldn't be _crying_ over this.  He was an adult, not some petulant child upset because they aren't getting their way.  He buried his face in a sweater and screamed his frustration into the fabric, and a few deep breaths later the urge to cry had stopped.  He threw a load of laundry in and dropped onto his couch, turning something random on Netflix for background noise until the load finished 45 minutes later, and he switched it into the dryer, dropping back onto his couch to stare at the TV without actually seeing it.

“Dean?”  Dean muted the TV, confusedly turning towards the stairs.  Did someone call his name?  “Dean?!” Cas called again.  Dean jumped off the couch and hurried upstairs.  Either that was the worst date Cas had ever been on, or…

“Yeah, Cas?” he answered, stepping into the kitchen to see Cas unloading takeout bags.  He looked up and smiled when Dean walked in.

“Hey, I got you the steak tacos, is that okay?” he asked, pointing at a container and grabbing the plastic forks out of the bag.  Dean recognized the logo from his favorite Mexican restaurant, he and Cas had been there quite a few times.

“Yeah, that's fine,” he managed to say, watching dazedly as Cas set up their meal at the island counter.

“Good, because we still need to discuss the differences between how a human brain and a computer brain would perceive time travel,” Cas said as he grabbed a bottle of wine out of his fridge, grabbing two glasses and the bottle opener.  Dean sunk down onto his barstool, unable to stop the grin from blossoming across his face.  Cas hadn’t gone on a date.  He had brought Dean dinner, he'd gone out of his way to spend the night with Dean, to celebrate his success that morning with _Dean._  “Dean?” Cas asked from his elbow, holding out a glass of wine.  Dean blinked up at him.

“Yeah, sorry.  I'm a little out of it,” he said quickly, taking the glass and smiling genuinely at Cas.

“Well, getting up at 3am will do that to you,” Cas laughed, sitting in his chair and digging into his enchiladas.

“Look who’s talking, you were awake then, too,” Dean pointed out.

“I'm used to it,” Cas shrugged, talking through half a mouthful of food.  God, how fucked up was it that Dean thought it was cute when he talked with his mouth full?  “I’ll be sleeping like a baby tonight, I can promise you that,” Cas chuckled.  There's a beat of silence while Cas examines his food, something serious and genuine on his face when he looks back up at Dean.

“What is it, Cas?” he asks, taco halfway to his mouth.  Cas’ smile is soft, grateful, and it makes Dean’s heart leap into his throat.

“Thank you, for caring about Anna’s story.”  Cas’ voice is heavy with emotion, and Dean swallows hard so he can speak.

“You don't have to thank me,” Dean mumbled, wanting to look away but desperate to drink in the way Cas’ eyes were shining.

“Course I do,” Cas insisted, “I never would have finished this without you.”  He paused, raising his wine glass to Dean, who wiped his hands and held his own glass up to Cas.  “To Roan and Nic,” he said softly, the clink of their glasses touching ringing in Dean’s ears.

“To you, Cas,” Dean added, sipping his wine.  Cas turned his gaze back to his food, a bashful smile on his face as they went back to eating and philosophically debating time travel.

Three words, small and short, but powerful, crossed Dean’s mind.  Three little words that changed everything, but also made perfect sense.

_I love him._


	8. 8. Emperor's New Clothes- Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM MOST SORRY THAT THIS TOOK AS LONG AS IT DID!!
> 
> But here it is! An update! *throws confetti*
> 
> So it was originally supposed to be one chapter, but I realized I had too much content for one chapter, so I've had to split it into two. Plus side is it gives me more room for detail, and the down side was it took me longer to edit these into individual chapters.
> 
> So I hope everyone enjoys, and the next update should be MUCH faster since most of it is already written!! :)

 

 _(Finders keepers, losers weepers)_   
_Welcome to the end of eras_   
_Ice has melted back to life_   
_Done my time and served my sentence_   
_Dress me up and watch me die_   
_If it feels good, tastes good, it must be mine_   
_Dynasty decapitated_   
_You just might see a ghost tonight_   
  
_And if you don't know, now you know_   
_I'm taking back the crown_   
_I'm all dressed up and naked_   
_I see what's mine and take it_   
_(Finders keepers, losers weepers)_   
Oh, yeah, the crown

 _So close I can taste it_   
_I see what's mine and take it_   
_(Finders keepers, losers weepers)_   
Oh, yeah

-*-*-*-

 

Dean was exhausted.  Utterly, completely, exhausted.  Seven weeks of non stop signings, interviews, and dinner events had drained every last bit of reserve energy Dean had.  The only thing getting him out of bed that morning was knowing that, after the signing Cas had scheduled at a Barnes and Noble, Dean would almost have a whole week with his family.  By some divine intervention, Sam’s fall break started at the same time Dean was arriving, and his brother had done nothing but chat excitedly with Dean about seeing him in the spare moments Dean could call.  

“Dean!  Coffee!” Cas called into his hotel room.  They had adjoining rooms, and Dean had left the connecting door open after their late night discussing some last minute plans for the big party at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.  Dean rolled out of bed, getting unsteadily to his feet and making his way towards the sound of Cas’ voice.  A coffee and a box of Munchkin donuts from Dunkin Donuts were on the table in Cas’ room, and Cas was already munching away, his fingers coated in powdered sugar.

“You know, this is why you have to work so hard at the gym,” Dean pointed out, grabbing a few donut holes out of the box and putting them on a napkin.

“Worth it,” Cas shrugged, his attention on the crossword puzzle in the paper.  “What's a seven letter word for irritating?”

“Castiel?” Dean offered.  He didn't even have to look up to see the bitch face Cas was giving him, but he did anyway, grinning back at Cas.  “What?”

“You're in a feisty mood,” Cas grumbled, filling in a word on the puzzle.

“I get to see my family today, Cas, I'm in a good mood.  And I'm also going to sleep for 24 hours tomorrow.”  Dean shoved a powdered sugar donut in his mouth, chewing happily.

“I haven't forgotten, it's all you've been talking about,” Cas sighed.  He glanced up at Dean, smirking and reaching out, his thumb grazing the corner of Dean’s lips and coming away covered with sugar.  “Classy, Dean,” Cas chuckles, wiping his thumb on a napkin.

Dean’s temperature shot up about 20 degrees, and he took a swig of his coffee to hide his embarrassment.

For the most part, Dean and Cas had been so busy he'd forgotten to feel lovesick.  It was only in the small moments like these that Dean was struck dumb with his emotions, reminded of everything he couldn't have.  The worst part was Cas himself, he would make small gestures, touching Dean’s arms as he passed by, squeezing his shoulder, leaning in to speak in his ear while they were out among Cas’ fans.  Cas doesn’t even realize what he’s doing to Dean, doesn’t realize the affect he has, and Dean doesn't do anything to stop it because he _wants_ it so fucking badly.

They finish the rest of their breakfast uneventfully, and once they're each showered and packed they head downstairs for their ride to Barnes and Noble.  The nameless driver helps load Cas’ bag into the car and they're on their way.  Dean misses Benny’s grounding presence almost as much as he misses his own car, but he couldn't ask Benny to travel with them, it wouldn't be fair.

Dean watches the familiar streets of the city roll by, remembering clients and small jobs he'd taken throughout his life in this small town.  It was surreal, being in a place so familiar, but with Cas, something so new in his life.  It made the memories feel different somehow, almost like they’d happened to someone else.  They pass by the hospital Lisa works at, and Dean shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

“Memories?” Cas asks, like he's reading Dean’s mind.  Dean doesn't answer.

The line at the bookstore is impressive considering they were in Topeka, and Dean feels a swell of pride on Cas’ behalf.  They make their way inside, the excited chatter from the line increasing in volume when they see Cas arrive.  The crowd is the same as it's been at all of these events along the way.  Most of them are around Sam’s age, though a few are older, some _much_ older.  Some are wearing LGBT pride shirts and accessories, and Dean’s reminded yet again that the books are a lot more than just stories to these fans.  Dean squeezes Cas’ shoulder and nods at the line of people.  Cas glances over, and Dean smirks at the small blush on Cas’ cheeks.

“You deserve this,” Dean says under his breath, for the 200th time the past few weeks.  Cas nudged him with an elbow as they made their way to the table the store had set up for him.

“Shut up,” Cas muttered.  Cas gets situated, testing the sharpies and organizing the stacks of books for those without their own copies, as Dean makes his way back towards the crowd to speak with the store manager about how the signing will go.  Once all the formalities are sorted, Dean turns to head back to Cas’ table, but pauses when he feels his shoulder tapped from behind.

“Excuse me,” a small blonde haired girl squeaks, her cheeks bright pink as her eyes darted to his face and away again.  She couldn't be more than 15 or 16.

“Need some help?” Dean asked.  Her eyes widened comically, and she was practically hiding behind her copy of Cas’ first book, the hardcover clutched tightly in her arms.

“Are you Mr. Novak’s bodyguard?” she asked in a big rush.  Dean smiled, shaking his head, though his ego took a nice boost.

“No, I'm his assistant,” he explained.  She nibbled her lip, glancing over at the table where Cas was sitting.

“Could- could you maybe tell him something?”  Dean nodded, and she flushed a deeper pink.

“Sure, what is it?”

“Couldyoupleasetellhimhisbooksmeansomuchtomeandhesamazing?” she gasped out.  Dean grinned, and the girl smiled back shyly.

“I will.  What’s your name?”  Her eyes nearly popped out of her head they widened so far.

“Z-Zoe,” she peeped.  

“Okay, see you when you get up there, Zoe,” Dean nodded, winking at her and moving back to Cas’ table.  Cas raised an eyebrow at him when he arrived, waving him down to lean closer.

“What was that about?” he asked softly so he wouldn't be overheard.  Dean shrugged.

“Just meeting some of your fans,” he said with a wink, and Cas flushed, muttering something about how he has ‘readers’ not ‘fans’.  Dean chuckled, stepping back as the first person in line stepped forward for their autograph.

Cas was amazing.  

Dean’s heart swelled with each interaction, some quick and simple, some utterly heart wrenching.  Dean fell in love all over again, watching Cas console and encourage these teens who had it so much worse than Dean had.  His coming out may have been a mess in his eyes, but some of these kids were utterly terrified of their sexuality, and the way Cas would patiently soothe their tears with kind words or a squeezed hand made Dean almost literally swoon.  When Zoe’s turn came, Dean stepped forward, smiling reassuringly at her.

“Castiel, this is Zoe,” Dean introduced her, and she flushed a bright pink, handing Cas her copy of his book with trembling fingers.  It was well loved,

“Hello, Zoe,” Cas said with a smile, already filling out her book.

“She wanted to tell you something,” he added, nodding at her.  She seemed frozen for a moment, but when Cas looked up expectantly, her words spilled out of her all in a rush.

“I just think your books are amazing, and they've made me feel brave and thank you and, and, you're amazing.”  

“Aw, sweetheart, thank you so much,” Cas said with a broad smile.  He added a note to her book, and Dean read it over his shoulder.

_I'm glad that I helped you feel brave, but your strength isn't in here, it's in you._

And god dammit if they weren't in front of a line of strangers and Dean wasn’t working for Cas he'd be crying and kissing Cas senseless right now.

As it is, they both smile and say thank you to Zoe as she takes her book back and scurries away, turning back to smile at Dean before she walks out of sight.

“You big softy,” Dean grunts, hoping he's hiding the emotion in his chest.

“Look who's talking, you remembered her name,” Cas scoffed, waving up the next fan.

It takes Cas just over an hour and a half to get through everyone, and once the last fan has stepped away from the table, Cas does a couple photos for the employees with their display of his books, and takes a few with the clerks themselves.

Then they're _free_.

Dean texts Sam to let him know they were just about finished for the day as he and Cas climb into the SUV.  Sam texts back a ridiculous picture of himself giving a thumbs up and a wink, Gabriel hovering just out of frame making a derpy face.  The caption read: _I've got so much to talk to you about!  Ellen and Bobby are going to be so excited to see you._

“You're grinning like a fool,” Cas chuckled.  Dean shrugged, sliding his phone back in his pocket.

“I haven't seen everyone in almost a year,” he explained.  “Do you blame me?”  Cas simply smiled and shook his head.  The ride to the hotel feels like _forever_ but they finally arrive, and Dean hops out of the car happily.

“I imagine you want to head straight there,” Cas sighs.  Dean nods, pulling his phone out to call Jo for a ride.

“Your car, Mr. Novak,” the bellman said, walking up and handing Cas a pair of keys.  Dean blinked at Cas, utterly confused.

“What car?” he asked, lowering his phone before he finished dialing.  “I don't remember setting up a car rental.”

“I did.  I figured this was as good a time as any to _not_ be chauffeured around.”  Cas grinned smugly as he held up the key fob and clicked the button.  Dean turned in the direction of the beep and choked on his tongue.

A brand new, bright blue, Corvette Stingray was sitting there gleaming in the afternoon sunlight.  Dean walks forward in a daze as Cas walks around the car and slides into the driver’s seat, a huge, childlike grin on his face.

“Cas… what-”  Dean’s inner mechanic is drooling over the car, his hands twitching as he thinks about what's under the hood.  He trails his fingers over the curve of the hood, bending to peer inside at the console.  Cas is settled in the driver’s seat, his sunglasses on and his sex hair going everywhere, and a different kind of excitement starts to work through Dean’s body.

“Are you just going to stare at the car all day,” Cas called, adjusting the mirrors and the seat, “or are you getting in?”  Dean quickly climbed into the car before he could change his mind, adjusting his own seat to account for his long legs.  Dean breathed in the smell of car, an overtone of Cas’ cologne in the air, and shifted in his seat under the pretense of buckling up, his lower half taking way too much interest.  Cas started the car, his hands caressing the steering wheel fondly as he pulled them out of the hotel driveway.  Dean could feel the strong rumble of the engine through the seat, and goosebumps spread down his arms.

“Of all the cars you could have rented, I guess I shouldn't be surprised you picked this one,” Dean chuckled as he pointed Cas towards the road out of town.

“What can I say, I have a thing for Chevys,” Cas shrugged, obviously having to try very hard to drive the car at normal speeds while they were in the city.  “I also had to pick something that would sufficiently distract you so I could invite myself along to meet your family,” Cas added offhand.

“Just make a right here-” Dean cut himself off mid direction, staring wide eyed at Cas.  Shit, he _had_ just invited himself along.  Dean feels his cheeks burn as Cas laughs at him, but not because of his boss’ mirth.  It's not that he didn't want Cas to meet his family, it's just that… okay, yeah, maybe he hadn’t really thought this through.  It's not that he was embarrassed or ashamed, it's just that Cas, hell, Dean’s whole life in LA was _separate_ from his home in Kansas, it didn't sit right with him combining the two.  Not that he knew _why_ , because of course that wasn't going to easily sort itself out.

Dean doesn't say much of anything aside from ‘turn left’ or ‘turn right’ as he attempts to get his uncooperative body and his panicking brain to both settle down.

“Sorry, Dean, I didn't mean to overstep,” Cas said quietly, reading Dean’s silence as him being upset.

“No, it's fine,” he said quickly, scrubbing a hand down his face.  “I just didn't give them any heads up, Ellen’s going to slap me silly.”  Dean hoped his smile and his joke hide how badly he's freaking out.  Forced, even breaths eventually help some, but he still feels the underlying tension in his shoulders.

He could hide his feelings from Cas himself, could easily mask them behind friendship or work, but being around Sammy?  Jo?  They'd call him out on his bullshit in a _heartbeat_.  Not to mention bringing the man he was in love with to meet his ‘parents’ held all sorts of baggage by itself.

“Alright, here we go!” Cas said excitedly as soon as they turned onto the backroad highway Dean was directing them to.  Cas shifts gear expertly and all the breath leaves Dean as they start to _fly_ down the road.  The car is built for this, the engine purring evenly as Cas grins, happier than Dean thinks he's ever seen him.  Dean’s fear based adrenaline gives way to endorphins, and he's not so worried about their destination anymore.  Instead, he's watching the man next to him, a beautiful, sexy man, expertly driving a beautiful car the same color of his eyes.  The line of his jaw curving up to meet his neck, the small curl of his perpetually messy hair behind his ears.  His brow is wrinkled slightly, just enough to give him an air of maturity without taking away from his youth, his nose crinkled from his gummy smile.   _God,_ his smile…

Has Cas always been this gorgeous?  Dean can't seem to remember ever seeing him look so breathtaking, and he's never felt such a strong urge to get his hands and lips all _over_ him before.  Dean’s lower half starts to perk up in earnest when Cas winks at him and shifts to a higher gear, the movement making Dean’s mouth go dry.  He watches intently as Cas’ tongue darts out to pull his lower lip between his teeth, Cas’ hands caressing the steering wheel and drive shaft in ways that have Dean’s imagination racing faster than they were driving.  He shifts his hips and his mostly hard cock presses against his zipper, Dean’s groan masked by the rumble of the engine.

_Fucking hell._

Helpless to stop it, Dean’s fantasy continues, the long fingers on the hand Cas is brushing over the gear shift rubbing over his hardness instead.  

_Bad fucking idea._

Dean feels his cheeks flush, his heart pounding against his sternum as he imagines Cas claiming his mouth in a kiss they can both hardly breathe through.

_Fuck._

The road takes a few curving turns, which Cas takes _just_ on the side of too fast, and Dean uses the cover of the movement to roll his hips a few times, seeking relief in the friction his jeans offer.  He manages to swallow his whimpers as his ill timed fantasy continues and his brain conjures up images of Cas’ fist working at Dean’s cock from the driver’s seat.  The images taunt and tease him as he squirms, getting him so close to the edge but not close enough to tumble over.  He feels fucking ridiculous, because this has got to be the worst timing ever, but he's too desperate and too far gone to care.  A sign for an upcoming gas station flew by.

“Cas, I _really_ gotta pee,” Dean blurts quickly, drawing a quick glance from Cas.  Dean feels his cheeks flush a deeper red in spite of himself as he tries not to draw attention to his situation.   “Pull over here.”

“Alright, we don't want to ruin the upholstery,” Cas chuckles.  Dean swallows a moan before it can leave his throat at the image of them ‘ruining’ the upholstery in another way.  Cas slows, taking the turn and almost as soon as the car pulls to a stop, Dean is scrambling out of the car, his back to Cas as he attempts to walk as normally as possible with a raging hard on into the station.  The clerk doesn't even look up as Dean staggers through the shop, shutting and bolting the door behind him with shaking fingers.  He fumbles for his button and his zipper, and Dean groans as he pulls his swollen and leaking erection free of its denim and cotton prison.  

Not caring about anything but relief, he gathers his precome on his palm and starts to work himself, grabbing a fistful of toilet paper in his other hand.  It only takes a couple pulls and Dean is coming, his mouth open in a silent cry as he catches his release in the tissue.

He wonders briefly what the _hell_ is wrong with him, but stops because he knows the answer.  He's in love with the most beautiful and unattainable man on the planet, and he's royally fucked because of it.

He flushes the tissue and washes his hands, dabbing at his face and neck with a damp paper towel to try and reduce some of the post orgasm flush on his skin.  Satisfied that he doesn't look too much like he's just gotten off in a gas station bathroom like a fucking perv, he walks out, the clerk still focused on their phone like Dean hadn't even been there.  He self consciously climbs back in the car, getting a mildly curious look from Cas.

“You alright?” he asks with a smirk.

“Shut up,” Dean grunts, and Cas laughs, pulling them back out onto the highway.

Now that the sexual tension in Dean’s body has been relieved, he sits back and tries to enjoy the remainder of the ride.  Of course now, with nothing to distract it, his brain won't stop worrying about Cas meeting his family.  It seems Dean can't win for losing, and he runs a hand through his hair in frustration.

As they get closer, Dean sends Sam a text to let him know that he’s almost at the Roadhouse, and Sam messages back that he’s on his way.  Dean forces himself to take a deep breath, knowing that no matter how anyone else reacts to Cas, at least Sammy will be there to help keep Dean sane.  Dean’s voice is clipped as he gives Cas the last of the directions.

“I really am sorry I invited myself along,” Cas says quietly, turning down the familiar streets of Dean’s home.  He probably thinks Dean’s mood is because he's angry with him, and Dean tries to smile to ease Cas’ worry.  It feels like more of a grimace, and it fades quickly.

“It's fine,” Dean insisted, hoping he sounded calm and casual.  “I think the last couple weeks are just catching up to me.  I'm fucking exhausted.”  Cas still seems a little worried, but accepts Dean’s explanation.  

“I understand.  While I appreciate the support I get from my readers, this trip has been fairly draining.”  Dean is relieved Cas accepted his explanation, and he relaxes just a bit more.

“Sam’s going to be excited to meet you,” he says to fill the silence.  “Don't know if anyone else has heard of you, though.”

“I won't mind if they haven't,” Cas admitted.  “I didn't do this for celebrity status.  Sometimes it's kind of nice to be forgotten, you know?  Well...not forgotten completely, but to be just another person.  I don't see how writing a book makes me any different than anybody else.  Or what part of acting in a movie would make someone inherently different.  This whole concept of hierarchy, of anyone being better than anyone else due to birth or popularity or genetics is all a social construct anyway.  People are people, we all put our pants on one leg at a time.”  Dean manages a small smile at Cas’ ramblings, and for the first time wonders if Cas is just as nervous as he is.  He shuts that thought down, because Cas has no reason to be nervous.  

_Right?_

“Well, this is it,” Dean sighed as they pulled up to the Roadhouse.  He climbed out of the car, pointedly _not_ watching Cas stretch his arms above his head, and turned for the door, Cas’ footsteps following behind him.  It was still fairly early in the afternoon as far as a bar goes, only the regulars were already parked on their bar stools, the rest of the place practically empty.  The group at the bar turned and greeted Dean with shouts, followed by bone breaking handshakes as Dean walked up to the bar.

“Dean Winchester, you haven't forgotten us small town hics!” Ash called from behind the bar, tossing his mullet over his shoulder.  Dean grinned, reaching out to shake his offered hand.

“Who could forget that hair?” Dean laughed, some of his tension already leaving him.  This place was as much a part of Dean as his home, in here he felt much more comfortable in his own skin.  Ash looking over Dean’s shoulder, whistling low as he caught sight of Cas.

“And who is this glorious specimen of a man?” Ash asked.  Dean rolled his eyes as a few chuckles echoed from down the bar.

“Ash this is Castiel Novak, my _boss,_ ” he explained.  Ash nodded, rubbing his hands together before grabbing a glass and filling it expertly with beer.

“Alright, that means your round is on the house!” Ash announced, dropping a coaster and the glass on the bar.  Cas glanced a Dean with an eyebrow raised and Dean just shrugged.

“And who are you giving my booze to for free?” Ellen's voice floated in from the kitchen door.  As soon as Dean saw her his shoulders sagged in relief, and he was on Ellen and hugging her tightly before she'd even had a chance to let the door swing shut.

“Hey, Ellen,” he sighed into his surrogate mother’s shoulder.  She hugged him back tightly, emotion evident in her bluster as she pulled away and smacked him on the back of the head.

“A little warning next time, tryin’ to give me a heart attack?” she scolded, shoving Dean aside as she walked over to Cas.  

“You must be Ellen, it's nice to meet you,” Cas said politely with an outstretched hand.  Ellen pushed past it and wrapped him up in a hug, Cas flushing slightly at the friendly greeting, his hand still awkwardly outstretched.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Novak,” Ellen said as she released him.  Dean snorted a short laugh at Cas’ bewildered expression, and got another smack from Ellen because of it as she walked by.

“Call me Castiel, please,” Cas insisted when he'd recovered slightly.  Dean smiled, glad that Cas was relaxed enough around Dean’s family to avoid the normal LA formalities.  Dean had always suspected the attitude Cas put on was for the benefit of the hardened city, and he was proved right.  Cas was much more relaxed around his fans and the people they’d met on this tour than Dean ever saw him in LA, the only exception being during the interviews and television spots.  Cas took a sip of his beer, looking adorably self conscious, his emotions open and easy to read, and Dean loved it.

Almost too much, come to think of it.

He turned his focus to his own beer Ash had poured him to keep Cas from seeing the heart eyes he had to be making at him.

“Castiel,” Ellen called from where she was washing dishes.  “You been keeping this bum busy?” Ellen nodded over at Dean who rolled his eyes at her.

“Trying to, anyway,” Cas said with a small smile.  Dean frowned.

“Hey, I've been working my ass off lately!” Dean defended himself.  Ellen whacked him with a towel from across the bar, expertly landing it on Dean’s shoulder.

“Language,” she snipped.  Ash sniggered and Dean his his smile behind his beer, because yeah, Ellen could curse like a sailor when she got going.  “Well, Castiel, why don't you come on over for dinner tonight and you can tell us what Dean’s been up to for the past 9 months.”

“Ellen, I don't-” Dean's reply was cut off by a sudden squeal.

“Dean!!” Jo’s voice was piercing even from the doorway, and she jogged over, jumping on his back and nearly choking him as she practically yanked him off his barstool.

“Jo this is my boss, Castiel,” Dean coughed through his crushed windpipe.  She hopped off of him and walked over to Cas, her eyes squinted as she examined him.  Cas sat silently, looking slightly worried while he waited for her to make her assessment.  Ash and Dean were silently chuckling, and Ellen whacked Ash on the back of the head and shot Dean a glare.  Dean cleared his throat and sipped his beer again.

“Well, you seem to have survived working with Dean for 9 months.  Good on you,” she said approvingly before slipping behind the bar and pulling on an apron.  Castiel gave Dean a shit eating grin, and Dean flushed, unable to stop himself from smiling back.

Eventually all of Dean’s close friends trickled in, Rufus and Garth each finding their normal seats at the bar after greeting Cas.  Cassie showed up, which made for a slightly awkward introduction.  Then Lisa showed up with her new boyfriend Matt, which was quite awkward on both sides.  Cas seemed to know there was something between them, but lucky for Dean at that moment he didn't ask.

After about an hour and a half, Dean was starting to get worried about his brother.  Ellen had left to get dinner started at home, and still Sam hadn't shown up to give him an excuse to pull Cas from the guys at the bar.  Rufus was in his element, telling some rather embarrassing stories about Dean to the room at large.  Normally, Dean wouldn't care, every one of the bar regulars had heard these stories a hundred times over, but _Cas_ hadn't, and Dean was desperate for a distraction from his embarrassment.  Dean was about to call his brother when Jo turned and waved over Dean’s shoulder, and Sam _finally_ walked through the door, Gabriel in tow.

“Sammy!” Dean called, his face breaking into a grin as he climbed off his stool.

“Sorry!” Sam called, “there was an accident on the way here and Gabe’s shortcut ended up not being so short.”  Sam wraps his arms around Dean in a bear hug, and Dean finally felt at home.

“Not my fault, I'm not the one that grew up around here!” Gabe snapped indignantly.  Dean released Sam, his mouth open to ask about it when Gabe’s face lost all its color.

“Gabriel?”  Cas’ voice was cold and quiet, a stark contrast to the bustle of the restaurant around them.  Dean and Sam froze in place, eyes bouncing back and forth between their companions.

“Hello, Cassie,” Gabe said just as quietly, his face uncharacteristically serious.  Dean glanced at Sam, who looked just as surprised as Dean was feeling.

“You two know each other?” Dean asked.  Cas didn't answer, just stared at the shorter man.

“Nothing to say to me?” Gabe sighed, crossing his arms.

“It's been a few years, though it doesn't appear _your_ opinion has changed,” Cas sighed, frowning slightly.

“You'd like to think it would have changed, don't you, now that you're all ‘successful’.”  The sarcasm in Gabe's voice wasn't the funny, friendly kind, and Sam was very obviously concerned about him.

“What do you want from me?” Cas snapped, crossing his arms over his chest and pulling himself up to his full height.  Dean recognized the intimidation tactic from the few times someone had caused trouble at one of Cas’ parties, and it sent a shiver down his spine.  “I've done my best-”

“Course you have,” Gabe snapped.  A few of the patrons around them had gone quiet, listening in on the argument.

“Guys, why don't we head out front?” Dean suggested.  Sam rested his hand on Gabe’s shoulder and Gabe spun on his heel, heading out the door with Cas close behind.  Sam and Dean exchanged a puzzled and worried look before following.

“You're _still_ pissed at me?” Cas asked once they were out in the parking lot.

“It's too little too late, Cas.  I've never liked the idea of the books-”

“She loves them!  You should see her when I read them to her!”  Cas is showing more emotion in this one conversation than Dean has seen in the past 9 months he's been working for him, and it's scaring Dean.

“I saw her at her worst,” Gabe said darkly.  “Me and my mother, Cas.  You were nowhere to be found.”

“I was a child!  I had to get out of there-” Cas started to argue.

“No, you ran away like a fucking coward.”

“Oh!!” Sam exclaimed suddenly, like he'd had an epiphany, and everyone turned to stare at him, Dean included.  Sam’s face reddened with a blush and he turned to Gabriel.  “Sorry, I just...this is the cousin you told me about?  Anna’s brother?”  Dean blinked, looking from Gabe to Cas.

“You guys are cousins?!” he blurted.  Gabe rolled his eyes.

“Yes, and yes.”

“Though I'm sure he regrets it,” Cas muttered.

“Why didn't you tell me Castiel was your cousin when you found out Dean was working for him?” Sam asked.

“Because there's not exactly great blood between us,” Gabe sighed, running a hand slowly through his golden brown hair.  “I didn't want to tarnish the image of your favorite author.”

“Wait, what’s going on?” Cas asked.

“Your cousin and my little brother have been dating for a while now,” Dean explained.  Cas’ eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Oh, that's…”

“If you start singing ‘It’s a Small World’ I will cut you,” Gabe snapped.  “I'm going for a walk,” he announced, turning and walking towards the other side of the parking lot in front of the restaurant.

“Um, nice to meet you!” Sam called, waving at Cas before chasing after Gabriel.  “Gabe, wait!”

Cas was silent, staring into empty space where his cousin had been, and Dean didn't have anything to say either, so he just stood awkwardly beside him.

His _cousin?_  Dean thinks back to the conversation he'd had with Gabe at Disneyland, about how strongly Gabe felt about supporting Sam because of his injuries.  He realized that Anna had been the one he'd watched fall ill, which meant he felt Anna had been neglected and forgotten… by _Cas?_

“Sorry you had to see that,” Cas sighed wearily.  Dean glanced up at him, Cas’ face an almost perfect stoic mask, though Dean could see the pain in his eyes.

“Cas, I- I'm not even sure what just happened.”  Cas turned from Dean walking over to the Corvette.  “Cas, wait!” Dean called, chasing after him.

“I'll head back to the hotel,” Cas said, sounding defeated, and Dean fought down the urge to reach out and hug him.  Instead, he put his hand on the door, keeping Cas from opening it.

“Ellen would murder me if you didn't come to dinner,” Dean joked, hoping to break Cas out of this funk.

“I'm not going to be the best company right now,” Cas pointed out, taking Dean’s hand off the car by the wrist.  “And with Gabe here it'll just be uncomfortable.”  Dean twisted his hand around, grabbing hold of Cas’ wrist, and ignoring the flutter in his stomach because they were _not_ holding hands.

“Cas, please,” Dean insisted.  “Sam is great at calming people down, just give him a while to work on Gabe.  You haven't lived if you haven't tried Ellen’s meatloaf.”  Dean doesn't know _why_ it's so important Cas comes to dinner, especially since up until that point he had been dreading it, he just feels this ache in his chest and it doesn't let up until Cas nods slowly.

“Okay,” he agreed, handing Dean the keys.  “Drive carefully, insurance on this thing sucks ass,” he added.  

Whatever family history was bringing Cas down effectively killed Dean’s excitement about driving the Chevy, and the car ride to Ellen and Bobby’s house was quiet and subdued.  Dean parked to the side of the driveway, surprised to see Gabe’s car was already there.  He shut down the engine, glancing over at Cas, his blue eyes unfocused as they stared forward at the house.

“You want to talk about it?” Dean asked.  Cas blinked slowly, focusing on the dashboard.

“You heard it,” he shrugged.  “You know my story, Anna got sick and...and I couldn't help.  I just ran.  It was too much for my grandmother, so my Aunt Hester stepped in, Gabriel’s mom.  She sort of took over Anna’s care while I wandered the country ‘finding myself’.”  Cas’ voice was bitter, obviously he'd been blaming himself for this for years.

“Cas,” Dean sighed, “you would have been no help to your sister if you'd had your own mental breakdown.”  Cas’ raised eyebrow was sceptical, but Dean ignored him.  “I mean it, sometimes we have to be selfish to be able to help others.”  

“Says the most unselfish person I've ever met,” Cas scoffed.  Dean flushed at the compliment.

“It's not always a good thing,” Dean pointed out.  “I see that now, looking back.  I nearly worked myself into an early grave a few times, between the stress and the work I put on my body.  Figured it out after the fact, but Sam would suggest something easy and fun for the two of us to do, forcing me to relax by making it about him.”  Dean could see this wasn't convincing Cas, so he took a deep breath and reached out, resting his hand on Cas’ shoulder.  “Come on, let's go eat, and if Gabe is still giving you grief, I'll bash his face in.”  Cas looked like he was going to argue, but when Dean finished his sentence Cas ended up smiling.  Small and brittle, but a smile.

“I don't think that’ll be necessary,” he huffed, climbing out of the Corvette.  Dean followed after him, leading the way to the front door.

The familiar house made Dean smile the moment he walked in.

“Bout time you idjits showed up,” Bobby’s gruff voice carried through the house from the den when the door opened.  Dean smiled when Bobby stepped into view, embracing him briefly before stepping back.

“Sorry, Bobby.  This is Castiel, my boss.”  Bobby and Cas shook hands.

“Welcome to my home,” Bobby said warmly, gesturing towards the kitchen.  “Ellen will have the food ready in a bit, you boys just stay out of her way.  Want a beer?”  Dean nodded, but Cas shook his head.

“I'm good, thank you.”   As Bobby left for the kitchen, Gabriel walked in the room.  His back was stiff but his hand was outstretched to Cas, a gesture of peace.  Dean watched as Gabe glanced over his shoulder at Sam before sighing heavily and turning to Cas.

“In the interest of civility, and to keep my boyfriend from being pissed at me, I shall call a truce between us,” he drawled.  Cas’ eyebrows raised in surprise, and Sam snickered, but the cousins shook hands anyway, and any remaining tension left Dean in a rush of a breath he didn't realize he was holding.  Bobby returned with the beer, looking around the room at the four of them.

“You boys all done having your little moment?  It's time to set the table,” Bobby groused, and both Dean and Sam grinned at each other across the room.  Before they followed everyone out into the kitchen, Cas leaned in close to Dean’s ear.

“Sam really can work miracles,” he whispered, his breath warm against Dean's skin.  Dean smiled and shrugged.

“What can I say, Sam’s just awesome like that.”

Dinner was calm and relaxing, Bobby and Ellen keeping Cas busy with small talk about his writing and about life in LA.  Dean was surprised how well Cas seemed to fit at their table, like there had always been an empty seat just waiting for Cas to fill it.  Gabe was back to his old self before the night was over, which relaxed Cas even further, and Dean felt this weird, happy warmth in his chest.

Bobby poured the older men a nightcap of some fine bourbon, and Gabe and Sam retreated to the basement to play on the PlayStation Gabe had brought from their apartment by school.  Cas glanced up the stairs curiously, and without a word Dean led him up, walking him to his and Sam’s room.  Dean turned on the light, stepping to the side so Cas could survey the room.  Dean watched Cas closely, his blue eyes trailing over the few belongings Dean had left behind, traveling over Sam’s things before coming to rest on Dean himself.  The room was small, but had never felt cramped with just him and Sam in there.  Alone with Cas, pinned by those eyes, the space was suddenly confining, and Dean turned away from Cas’ gaze.

“It's not much, but it's home,” Dean said quietly.

“It's wonderful,” Cas sighed, a wistfulness in his voice.  “You can really feel the love in this house, it's seeped into the walls, right down to the foundation.”  Cas paused, and Dean couldn't bring himself to look up.  “It shows in the people who live here, too.  Especially in your brother.”

“Sam is...he's been through a lot, I'm not sure how he's not more of a cynical bastard like me,” Dean chuckled, swallowing down the weird press of emotion behind his eyes.

“Because one of you is enough for this world,” Gabe jokes from the doorway.  Dean instinctively took a step further back from Cas, blushing when Gabe raised an eyebrow at him.  Sam stumbled into view, mostly dead on his feet, and Dean realized he was going into one of his deep sleeps.  He moved forward and helped Gabe lower Sam into bed, his brother fast asleep before he even hit the pillow.

“Yeah, he's not going to be up for socializing tomorrow,” Dean chuckled.  Gabe sighed in a forlorn kind of way.

“Yeah, and it also means I ain't getting any tonight,” he whined.

“And that's our cue to head out,” Dean said quickly.

“I could share with you, Deano, if you wanna bunk here.  I do want to warn you, I'm a cuddler.”  Gabe laughed as Dean scurried from the room with a chorus of _nopes_ , followed by an amused Castiel.  

“You boys off to your hotel?” Bobby called when they passed by his study.

“For tonight,” Dean nodded.  “I was going to swing by the garage tomorrow for a bit.  Not sure what Cas is going to do,” he added, looking over his shoulder at Cas.

“Alright then, you idjits drive safe in that car,” Bobby sighed, not even getting up from his chair.  

“Yessir,” Dean and Cas said at the same time.  Dean blushed and Cas laughed, the two of them pulling on their shoes before Ellen pulls them each in for a hug, walking them to the door.

“See you tomorrow, boys!  Jo won't be closing, so it'll be one more for dinner,” she called after them.  Dean waved, pulling the keys out of his pocket and offering them to Cas.  Cas just shrugged and slid into the passenger seat, and Dean grinned, sliding into the driver seat and running his hands eagerly over the steering wheel before adjusting the mirrors and the seat.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas?”  He glanced over at his boss, just able to make out the shape of his face in the glow from the instrument panel.  He had his eyebrow raised as he watched Dean get situated.

“I really don't want to have to pay for this car.”  Dean smirked, backing them out of the driveway and shifting into gear.

“I would never dream of hurting a beautiful girl like this,” Dean reassured him, taking off down the road.

 

 

The rest of the week went by too quickly in Dean’s opinion.  He spent a couple days showing Cas around all his old hangouts, and Cas spent a couple in the hotel room, taking some phone interviews and catching up on some sleep.  Dean spent those two days at the garage, helping out on some cars and enjoying the relaxed, no pressure atmosphere that came with it.  

He and Cas joined Sam, Gabe, and a couple times Jo, at Ellen and Bobby’s for dinner every night.  Gabriel and Cas had disappeared outside one night after eating, talking for about an hour before returning to the house looking tired but not unhappy.  Whatever they talked about must have worked, because by the last night any animosity between the cousins was gone.  Dean didn't doubt that there was still some underlying baggage, but at least for now they were getting along just fine.  Sam spent almost their entire last day picking Cas’ brain about his books, every little detail that he didn't understand, and each moment that really stuck with him.  College had done wonders for Sam’s confidence, Dean could see it in how Sam stood a bit taller, and how he wasn't afraid to speak up during lively conversations.  He and Gabe were oddly perfect for each other, their personalities blending together to complement the other’s quirks.

It was during that last day, watching Sam chat with Cas while Gabe rested against his legs when it hit Dean.  

Sam didn't need him anymore.  

He was recovered, independent enough to take care of himself, and when he did need support he had Gabriel right there to help him.  It should have made Dean happy, knowing Sam was finally strong enough to be on his own, but he couldn't help but feel a little sad.  Dean was proud of Sam, without a doubt, but it didn't mean it wasn't a bittersweet feeling knowing that his baby brother had finally grown up and overcome so much.

Dean lingered after dinner on their last night in Kansas, and he could tell Cas noticed, but he didn't say anything to rush Dean out the door.  He was lounging on the living room couch with Cas, each of them nursing a beer, while Bobby was dozing in his easy chair and Ellen was humming to herself as she washed dishes.  Everything was so calm and peaceful, except for Dean’s stomach, which was twisting around at the thought of leaving.  Dean had given in and even tried to pretend that he and Cas were more than coworkers to appease his unrequited feelings for a bit and to relax.  Aside from any actual physical contact, Cas had been relaxed and open around Dean’s family, like a real significant other would be.  His walls were still there, but he wasn't standoffish, and he wasn't afraid to smile, something he hardly did in public in LA.  

Dean just wanted to bottle this feeling and take it with him, this content happiness that he'd missed so much since he'd moved to LA.

And that was the kicker that really brought down Dean’s mood; Dean didn't want to leave this time.  

He hadn't realized how homesick he truly was until he saw Cas in Ellen’s kitchen, saw Cas sitting on _Dean’s_ barstool at the Roadhouse.  His old life surrounded him, and Cas was there in the middle, and he _fit_ so well Dean had almost forgotten Cas didn't belong there.  Dean knew it was going to kill him to leave, but he wasn't going to think about it right now.  

This was where he belonged, here in small town Kansas surrounded by close friends and family, not just another pretty face surrounded by strangers in LA.  

“You boys better get going, you've got some sleep to get before your flight tomorrow,” Ellen sighed once their beers were gone.  Dean knew she was right, and she roused Bobby so Dean and Cas could say their goodbyes.  Sam and Gabe came up from the basement at Ellen’s call, and Dean squeezed his brother that much tighter.  Cas went out to the car to give Dean a moment alone with his family, and with a silent nod from Sam, everyone left him alone with Dean.

“What's up, Sammy?” Dean asked.

“What are you going to do about Cas?” Sam said gently.  Dean flushes and drops his gaze to the floor.

“I don't know.”

“You love him.”  It's not a question, and Dean nods slowly.  

“Yeah, I do.”  It had never been said out loud before, and the weight of it hangs heavy in Dean’s chest.  “But he doesn't see me that way, and even if he did, we couldn't…”  Dean’s throat constricts and he swallows hard.  

“Dean, you're good at taking care of everyone else,” Sam sighs, “remember to take care of yourself this time?”  Dean swallows hard and pulls Sam in for one last rib crushing hug before joining Cas in the car for their drive back to the hotel.

Dean and Cas hardly spoke that night before going to bed, and were silent again before they boarded their flight for Cleveland the next morning.  Dean didn't trust himself to speak, and Cas must have picked up on his mood and didn't try to make him.

 

_To be continued…..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave me some comments! I'd love to be able to fix any inconsistencies before the next chapter gets posted!


	9. 9. Emperor's New Clothes Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay everyone, brace yourselves, we get pretty angsty in this chapter... Like REALLY angsty... like... sorry...
> 
> This is where the story has been working to the whole time, and now that we've hit this point the rest of this should flow pretty quickly.
> 
> On a side note: I'm really proud of this story, and I love all of you for reading this. If you could do me the tiny favor of maybe rec'ing this fic to people either on Tumblr, Twitter, Instagram, etc, I would be most obliged ❤️❤️ While I have no plans to stop writing my fanfic, I do want to seriously get started on my original novel. Feedback on my writing here gives me confidence to take my writing elsewhere in this world. :)

_ Sycophants on velvet sofas _ __  
_ Lavish mansions, vintage wine _ __  
_ I am so much more than royal _ __  
_ Snatch your chain and mace your eyes _ __  
_ If it feels good, tastes good, it must be mine _ __  
_ Heroes always get remembered _ __  
_ But you know legends never die _ __  
__  
_ And if you don't know, now you know _ __  
_ I'm taking back the crown _ __  
_ I'm all dressed up and naked _ __  
_ I see what's mine and take it _ __  
_ (Finders keepers, losers weepers) _ __  
_ Oh, yeah, the crown _ __  
_ So close I can taste it _ __  
_ I see what's mine and take it _ __  
_ (Finders keepers, losers weepers) _ __  
_ Oh, yeah _ __  
__  
_ Mortal kings are ruling castles _ __  
_ Welcome to my world of fun _ __  
_ Liars settle into sockets _ __  
_ Flip the switch and watch them run _ __  
__  
_ Oh, yeah, oh _ __  
_ (Finders keepers, losers weepers) _ __  
_ I'm taking back, back, taking back, back _ __  
_ The crown _ __  
_ I'm all dressed up and naked _ __  
_ I see what's mine and take it _ __  
_ (Finders keepers, losers weepers) _ __  
_ Oh, yeah, the crown _ __  
_ So close I can taste it _ __  
_ I see what's mine and take it _ __  
_ (Finders keepers, losers weepers) _ __  
_ Oh, yeah _ __  
_  
_ __ (Finders keepers, losers weepers) (2x)

_ ~*~*~*~ _

 

Once they land in Ohio, Dean is able to go back into PA mode for a while and forget his homesickness.  He can focus on his work, arranging their ride, checking into the hotel, ordering lunch.  The most complicated part of his day was coordinating with the representatives from the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and organizing the last minute details with the reporter the publicist had insisted on having attend the party.  

A few times he would catch Cas watching him work, like he was waiting for an opportunity to say something, but he never actually spoke up, his eyes turning down and away each time Dean would meet them.

Dean ignores the ache in his chest as best he can.

After a very small signature session at a Books A Million, Dean and Cas returned to their hotel to change for the party, separating to enter their respective hotel rooms alone.  Their rental tuxes had been delivered, and Dean showered quickly before unpacking the garment bag.  Tomorrow they'd be on their way back to LA, and if the pattern held out, Cas would go back to his parties, and Dean would go back to damage control and small meet ups with the publicist and the like.  Especially if Cas didn't start to write again.  Without the distraction, Dean was afraid he’d lose the Cas he's come to know and love.  This side of Cas, the one who smiles easier, who actually shows some emotion, would get buried under the cynicism of the city.  

He had just finished doing up his pants when his phone rang, Charlie’s name lighting up his screen.  He answered and put the call on speakerphone, setting it on the dresser as he continued to dress.

“Hey, Charlie, what's going on?” he called.

“Sitting in my living room bored to tears, waiting for Dot to get off work,” she sighed.  “Hey, am I on speaker?  It sounds echo-y.”

“I'm in the process of getting dressed,” Dean grunted, managing to get his cumberbund done and pulling his vest on.  “So yeah, kinda can't hold the phone right now.”

“Oh, the big party!” Charlie tittered excitedly.  “On a scale of one to sexy, how good do you boys look in your tuxes?”  Dean chuckled at his phone, picking it up and moving it to the mirror so he could do up his tie.

“If I can ever get the damn thing on I'll send you a photo.  And I haven't seen Cas since we came back to change, so I couldn't tell you.”  Dean’s voice was a bit strained, the frailty unmistakable.

“Something happen since last we talked?” Charlie asked slowly.  Dean winced, though he wasn't surprised Charlie could tell something was wrong.

“Funny thing is, nothing happened.  Between me and Cas, anyway.”  Dean finished with his tie, running his hand down the silky fabric and checking his reflection to make sure it was straight before buttoning his vest over top of it.  “Seeing my family last week just reminded me of how much I miss them is all.”  It was mostly truth, and he hoped it would be enough to satisfy her curiosity.  

“I'm sorry.”  Her voice was full of sympathy, but Dean didn't want it.

“Yeah, me too,” Dean sighed, picking up his jacket, a piece of square fabric that matched his tie falling to the floor.  “Who the fuck actually uses pocket squares?” he grumbled, picking it up and attempting to fold the silky material.

“Classy,” Charlie chuckled.  “But you're not going to distract me so easily.  Dean, if your feelings for Cas are-”

“Stop, Charlie.”  He didn't want to talk about this, not when he knows Cas is currently changing into his own tux, and how it's going to fuck with Dean’s mind and body the moment he sees him.  “I just can't do this now.”  

“Now?  Or ever?” she asked gently.  Dean didn't answer, and Charlie was quiet for a while as Dean managed to get the pocket square in his jacket.  “I can see about transferring you to another client,” she said casually.  A sharp pain sliced through his chest, and Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to just get a fucking hold of himself.

“It wouldn't make a difference, Charlie.”  He shrugged into his jacket, tugging at the sleeves to make sure it was sitting right on his shoulders.  It wouldn't make a difference if he was working for Cas or not.  Cas himself had said a romantic relationship was out of the question for him, and Dean was way past the ‘casual sex’ stage.  “He's not going to see me that way, and I can't handle trying and failing.”

“So why are you sticking around?  Isn't being with him 24/7 making it worse for you?” Dean fidgets with the cuffs of his shirt.

Was it?  Was it causing him more pain in the end?  When he knew he would never even have a chance with Cas?  Would the pain of losing his friendship help Dean get over his romantic feelings?

“I don't know,” he admitted, exhaling heavily in frustration.  Charlie’s sigh over the phone was full of concern.

“Well, let me know what I can do, if anything okay?” Charlie insisted.  “Try to just enjoy tonight, and I'll come visit once you're back in LA.  Bring all sorts of comfort food and chick flicks.”  Dean’s heart swelled with affection for her, one of the few truly good things to come out of his time in LA.  

“I don't do chick flicks, Charlie.”

“Yeah, okay.  And send me a picture of you two!”  

“Alright, later,” Dean agreed, hanging up the call.  He glanced at himself in the full length mirror, his tux fully assembled and in place, and he almost didn't recognize himself.  He was more tan than usual because of his summer in LA, not overly bronzed but simply darker, with a dash of new freckles across his cheeks.  His hair was still longer than he usually kept it, artfully styled over with some product, and he couldn’t remember exactly when he'd started to  _ use _ hair products.  He looked older, either from the exhaustion or from the stress, like he'd aged a good five years since starting this job.

He didn't remember any of these things happening, they'd just… happened.  Dean wasn't the type to go around in fancy dress with hair gel and a fake smile.  Dean was the type who favored comfortable jeans and flannel shirts, running his fingers through his short cropped hair and nothing else, elbow deep in a car engine not in pandering press agents.

He hardly recognized himself.

A knock on his door startled him, and he walked over to answer on autopilot.

“We need to get going, the driver’s ready,” Cas was saying as the door swung open.  

_ Fuck me sideways, _ Dean groaned to himself, forgetting how to breathe.  Cas looked  _ delicious _ in his tux, every line in his body accented and defined by the expensive material.  He was shaved, his hair combed to the side, and when Dean’s eyes made their way back to his face, Cas’ eyes were taking their own trip down Dean’s body.  Feeling very self conscious, Dean turned away and grabbed his wallet and his phone, shoving them in his pockets.

“Lead the way,” Dean said evenly, keeping his eyes on anything but Cas.  Cas turned without a word, and Dean followed him down the elevator to the lobby, where their limousine was waiting for them.

Dean hates the silence between them as they ride to the museum.  Hates it because he’s too much of a coward to do anything about it.  Did Cas think Dean was angry with him?  Was he right now worrying about some imagined slight and too worried about damaging their friendship further to say anything?  Dean thought he knew Cas well enough that the other man wouldn't worry about speaking his mind, but apparently Cas was slipping back into his old habits already, closing himself off from Dean like he had before.

They pull up to the party, people scattered everywhere in front of the museum, some with cameras and press badges, and Dean welcomes the stressful distraction.

The moment Cas climbs out of the limo, he’s the mysterious author from the back cover of his books.  Serious and beautiful, smiling but not showing teeth, looking almost bored with the whole to-do.  Dean keeps an eye on the reporters, as they walk towards the entrance.

“Why is this so big, anyway?” he asked Dean out of the corner of his mouth, hardly breaking his expression.

“Your publisher invited every single one of their best authors to this party, and some people I've never heard of but have been told are ‘celebrity figures’ are here, apparently.”  Dean tried to also keep his face as blank as possible, painfully aware that photographers were taking  _ his  _ photo as well.

“Ah.  Of course,” Cas sighed.

“Mr. Novak, you finally made it!  Come, there's some folks I'd like you to meet!”  Dean recognized the new liaison the publisher had assigned after Cas’ showdown with Dick, Frank Abernathy, but Dean hadn't had much occasion to talk to him yet.  He whisked Cas away the moment they stepped inside the building, and after Cas was paraded around for a while, Frank dropped him back off with Dean.  Then it was the reporter’s turn for a few moments with Cas to ask some quick questions.  They were all the same ones Dean had grown accustomed to throughout the book tour.

Except for the last one.

“Would you say that your coming out had any influence over your number of readers for this release?”  Dean’s gaze snapped to her quickly.  Cas’ ‘coming out’?  It wasn't that Cas was closeted, but he hadn't exactly publicly confirmed his sexuality either.  Not to mention his personal dislike of labels.

“I'd like to think that my books speak for themselves, and that the author’s life outside them would have no effect on the reader’s perception,” Cas said calmly, a cool edge to his tone.

“Are you done?” Dean snapped, not quite so calm, standing in between Cas and the reporter.  The woman took a step back, but her face was determined.

“But, if you were to come out as gay, do you believe it would boost sales of your books?  Or do you think people would see it as a publicity stunt and resent you for it?”

“Okay, yeah, you're done,” Dean snapped, reaching out and covering the camera lens trained on Cas.  Security moved in quick after that and escorted them from the party.

“Thanks for that, but I could have handled it,” Cas chuckled, apparently amused by Dean’s display.  Dean sighs heavily, tugging at his tux uncomfortably.

“I know you could, and I know she was just fishing, but you hate labels and she crossed a line,” Dean muttered.  Cas’ hand is a warm weight against his back, and it travels up to his shoulder, squeezing gently before Cas turns for the buffet table.  Dean misses it the second it leaves.

“Come on, let's get some food,” Cas chuckles.  Dean isn't hungry, his stomach churning from his overworked emotions, but the open bar is appealing enough to get him to follow Cas.

About an hour later, after more flutes of champagne than he probably should have had, Dean is starting to wonder if it's possible to die from small talk.  Dean turns away from the party and starts to aimlessly wander through the exhibits, security nodding at him as he wandered past them.  He pauses every once in a while, reading a placard and smiling at the memorabilia locked in the display cases.

He isn't sure how long he wanders, his head slightly fuzzy from the alcohol, but it's quiet and peaceful deeper into the museum, away from the voices and false laughter of the party.  Away from his own feelings about Cas.  Dean’s mind is blissfully empty of everything but the information he's reading about, and he's okay with that.  

When he finds the display for the Beatles, he subconsciously starts to hum ‘Hey Jude’ to himself as he reads, just like his mom used to so long ago.  He’s standing in front of Paul McCartney’s piano and just basking in the amazing weight of all the history in the room when soft footsteps sound from behind him.

“I thought I'd find you back here,” Cas’ voice cuts through Dean’s thoughts, bouncing off the silent tile.  Dean stops humming, watching Cas’ reflection in the glass grow larger as he approached Dean.  Between his relaxed state and the alcohol, Dean simply smiles at Cas’ presence, just happy he's there beside him.

“The party is for you, aren't people going to miss you?” Dean asked.

“Fuck them,” Cas sighs.  “They're here for the publicity or the free booze.  Only one person is here for me.  Well, I guess two technically.”  Dean laughs at that, and he nudges Cas with his elbow.

“You and me against them all, huh?” he said, walking around the piano and closer to the wall length display.

“That's definitely how it's felt the past few weeks,” Cas sighed, following a few steps behind Dean.  Dean is staring at Cas’ reflection in the glass, not really seeing what's behind it.  They're  _ alone _ , Dean’s kind of tipsy, and it starts to sound like a good idea to just close the distance and kiss the crap out of his boss.  “Are we okay?” Cas asks suddenly, his voice worried.  Dean blinks, risking a glance in Cas’ direction, and when he sees the worry in his eyes is genuine, he turns completely to face him.

“Of course we are.  Why would you think we weren't?” Dean asks, smiling.  Cas shoves his hands in his pockets, looking timid and  _ very  _ un-Cas like, and so fucking adorable.

“I'm not sure, you've just been kind of… closed off the past few days, and I didn't know if maybe I'd done something.”  Cas’ eyes find his, concerned and questioning, and Dean takes a step forward out of reflex.

“I’ve been a little homesick,” Dean admitted honestly.  “And before you say it, I know I was just  _ at  _ home, but- I dunno I think it made it worse,” he sighed.  

“If you need more time, you can take some,” Cas insisted gently.  “There shouldn't be much work for you the next couple weeks.”  Dean’s heart ached with how honestly concerned Cas was for him, his hands slipping from his pockets like he wanted to reach for Dean.  And Dean  _ wants  _ him to, wants him to reach out and take Dean into his arms and just  _ hold him _ .

“I don't know if that’ll help, but I'll think about it,” Dean says, and Cas shrugs, shifting on his feet so he's just a bit closer to Dean.  It's probably the buzz from the alcohol, but there's a weird current running between them tonight, pulling them closer like magnets.  Dean’s eyes trail over Cas’ lips, soft and pink and just on the side of chapped, and he wonders what they'd feel like under his.

“Okay, well, if you change your mind, you don't have to tell me, just go,” Cas insists.  He turned his eyes from Dean, scanning over the display in front of them.  They stand in silence for a moment before Cas points at something in the case.  “One of my prized possessions in my record collection is a  _ pristine _ copy of the White Album,” Cas grins, and Dean smiles along with him.

“It's an awesome album,” Dean agreed.  “I had a copy on vinyl somewhere, not sure what happened to it.”  

“Too bad I never listened to it,” Cas sighs remorsefully.

“Wait, what?!” Dean blurts, spinning to face Cas and grabbing his shoulder. 

“That's the price I pay to keep it in good condition,” Cas shrugs, his eyebrow raised in amusement at Dean’s outburst.

“You've never heard the album at all?” Dean asks.

“Oh, no I have,” Cas chuckles at the horror on Dean’s face.  “I just haven't listened to it on vinyl.”

“Wow, I was about to have to school you,” Dean laughed, releasing Cas’ shoulder and running his hand over the back of his own neck.  Cas is smiling up at Dean, standing so close Dean can smell his cologne, all it would take would be for him to lean in just a couple more inches...

“Um, excuse me?” a woman called from behind them, making them each jump and move apart.  She was an employee, and Dean relaxed slightly.  “We need to start closing up the back of the museum.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Dean said with a sheepish wave, his cheeks burning.  He had definitely had just a tad too much to drink tonight, if he was that close to just throwing everything to the wind and  _ kissing Cas _ .  

“Hey, could you just take a picture of us real fast?” Cas asked her, in his most charming voice.  

“Sure,” she agreed with a smile, and Dean held out his phone for her to take, sliding the camera app open.  She took a few steps back from them, and Dean only hesitated a moment before wrapping his arm around Cas’ shoulders.  Cas’ arm naturally wrapped around his lower back, his fingers tightening around Dean’s hip through his tux jacket.  The woman snapped a couple photos, and Dean hoped the blush that had crept up his cheeks wouldn't show.  As soon as she was done Dean stepped away from Cas, trying not to think about how Cas’ fingers seemed reluctant to let go.  He was just imagining it anyway.

“Thank you,” Dean said with a smile.

“You're welcome, if you could head to the front please,” she said with a polite nod, her heels clicking against the floor as she walked on to check the rest of the exhibits.  Dean and Cas walked back to the front of the museum, Dean pulling up the photo and texting it to Charlie and to Cas.  Cas’ phone pinged his message alert, and Dean glanced over to see him smiling softly.  Charlie texted back a moment later, about a million of the heart eyed emojis taking up most of the message.  A couple of the suggestive smirk emojis tagged on the end made Dean flush and shove his phone back in his pocket.

When they rejoined the crowd, Cas flagged down one of the valets, asking that their car be brought around.  Dean was more than ready to go, so he didn't argue, just followed along behind Cas as he politely said goodnight to everyone who was still enjoying the free alcohol.  Then they were out the door and into their car, and Dean sighed happily.

The moment the door to their limo closed, Cas started to strip out of his tux, the jacket coming off, followed quickly by the vest and the cumberbund, his fingers pulling his tie loose with a sigh of relief.  Dean could only imagine what his face must have looked like, because Cas flushed when he looked over at him.

“What?  I hate the monkey suit,” he muttered, pulling his tie the rest of the way off and undoing the buttons on his cuffs.  

“Touché,” Dean chuckled, following suit and removing some of his layers, though he was a bit slower about it than Cas.  Mostly because he was distracted  _ by  _ Cas and his state of semi-undress.

“So, I’d call this book tour a success,” Cas hummed, leaning back in his seat.  “I'm looking forward to some time off when we get back.”

“What are your plans?” Dean asked.  Cas shrugged, his eyes slipping closed as he laid his head back against the headrest.

“Don't really have any.  Going to go see my sister then… I think it'll be good just to play it by ear for a bit.”  Dean watched the muscles and tendons in his neck work as he talked, physically shaking his head when he started to wonder what Cas’ skin would taste like.  “It's going to be weird, the whole not writing thing.  I've been working on these books for so long I don't even remember what I used to do with myself.”

“Maybe you'll find a new story to work on,” Dean offered, and Cas’ eyes opened, examining him from across the car.

“Maybe,” Cas agreed.  “I just have to find my new muse, I suppose.”  Something in the way Cas said the words gave Dean goosebumps, but their conversation was cut short as their car pulled to a stop at their hotel.  Dean gathered up all the pieces of his tux, making sure that Cas got all of his before climbing out of the limo.  Cas led the way to the elevator, another guest giving the two of them a strange look when she stepped past them out of the elevator.  They reach their rooms without further incident, Cas turning to Dean once he's gotten his door open.

“Have a good night, Dean,” he smiles, and Dean nods.

“Good night, Cas.”

Dean steps inside his room and finishes removing the rental tux, packing up all the pieces in the garment bag for pickup by the hotel staff the next morning.  He showers quickly, so he can set his alarm for as late as possible the next morning, and tumbles naked into bed.  He wants to be worried about his lax filter that night, about if Cas had noticed, but he falls asleep before he really has a chance to.

 

 

 

It isn't until their flight lands in LA that Dean’s homesickness settles back in again.  Benny’s familiar face eases some of his tension, and Dean and Cas tell him stories of some of Cas’ most memorable encounters on the drive back to the house.  Benny offers to take Dean out for a drink that evening, but Dean doesn't give him a definite answer right away, too tired to think that far ahead.  Benny helps them unload their suitcases, and after giving Dean a bear hug, pulls away, leaving Dean and Cas standing at their front door.  

Cas gets the lock open, and when they step inside they separate, Dean turning for his apartment and Cas for the stairs.

“Dean?”  Cas is about halfway up, and Dean looks up at him, his doorknob in hand.  His face is unreadable, even for Dean.

“Yeah?”

“Would you want to come... _ celebrate _ ?”  The inflection in Cas’ voice on the last word sets off every nerve in Dean’s body.  He's grateful his suitcase is in front of him because he goes from zero to  _ fuck me  _ so fast it hurts, heat rushing up his neck.

“What do you…?”  Of course Dean’s mouth is two steps behind his brain.

“You know, just some sex?  To top off the trip?”  Cas is so calm and matter of fact about those words but Dean’s heart has nearly burst from his chest.  He's diamond hard in his pants, and everything inside him is  _ screaming  _ to take Cas up on his offer.

“Uh, I think we better just... keep this professional,” Dean said quickly, turning back to his door and cursing his entire existence.  

“Okay, suit yourself,” Cas says, sounding a bit disappointed as he continues up the stairs.  Dean closes his door behind him and his knees give out, pitching him forward onto the carpet and sending little jolts of pain through his knees and palms.

He's gasping for air, and trying not to cry, and he's a 25 year old  _ adult _ , not a 14 year old boy, why the fuck is he freaking out like this?! 

He thought Cas knew him.  Hell, half the time he swears Cas already knows how he feels.  But if Cas really understood him, he would have known not to ask him that question.  He wouldn't have put Dean in that situation in the first place, and Dean realizes that's the root of this pain.  He completely trusts Cas, feels like he’s learned all he can about him, left his whole self on display for Cas to see...and Cas...Cas  _ doesn't… _ it isn't the same for him as it is for Dean.

Cas doesn't  _ care  _ that way.

He curls his legs into himself, his back resting against the wall, crippled by the pain of wanting someone so bad and being unable to have them.  

He knows now.

He knows Charlie is right.

He needs to go.

Too numb with the realization to do much else, Dean pulls out his phone and starts typing his letter of resignation.  It's perfectly professional, citing personal issues as his reason for departure, and filled with nothing but praise for Cas as an employer.  Once he's finished he puts his phone away and just continues to sit, waiting for feeling to come back into his limbs.

Angry shouting from upstairs makes him pull himself to his feet, staggering up his small staircase into the living room to see what's going on.

“Are you fucking crazy?!  I didn't sign up for this shit!”  Meg’s voice is terrified, and it helps Dean focus on the scene in front of him.  Cas is standing against the wall with his hands out, palms outward in a placating gesture, Meg is pacing behind the couch, and Balthazar is standing in the center of the room.

With a gun.  

Dean freezes in place just to the right of the couch.

“Ah, here's the pretty one!” Balt sing-songs as Dean comes into view.  Cas’ eyes flick to Dean briefly, then back to Balthazar.

“What's going on?” Dean asks cautiously.

“You know, I'm not a violent, not usually, but when you've  _ fucking _ ruined my life, it kinda changes a person.”

“Balt, sweetie, Cassie didn't mean it-”

“SHUT UP!” Balt snapped at Meg, and she stilled, her eyes wide and scared.

“I could have put a stop to you dealing the first night, and I didn't,” Cas said calmly, though how the  _ fuck  _ he was so calm Dean had no idea.

“Yeah, well, a bit too late for that, mate,” Balt spat, taking a step closer to Cas.

“Mind filling me in?” Dean said quickly, drawing Balt’s crazed glare his way.  His eyes were sunken and there was a tremble in the hand holding the gun, and Dean began to wonder how to resolve this without getting shot.

“Balthazar deals heroine for one of the upper tier drug bosses in LA.  The ones who cater to the celebrities when they want it kept quiet.”  The calm in Cas’ voice is almost worse than if he was panicking.  

“Until you cut off my buyers from their supply,” Balt spat.  Dean realizes they're talking about the parties that Balt was always pressuring Cas to have.  He  _ knew  _ something was going to come back and bite them in the ass.

“So go find more buyers,” Dean snapped.  “The fuck does Cas have to do with anything?”

“You really think it's that  _ easy _ ?” Balt scoffed.

“You chose to ruin your own life by making these choices, I did not coerce or influence your decision in any way,” Cas said, and Balt rounded on him.

“You shut the fuck up!” he shouted.  In the brief moment his back was turned, Dean caught Meg’s attention, pointing at the alarm system on the wall she was closest to.

_ Panic button, _ he mouthed.  She followed his gaze, nodding minutely, but only getting a couple steps before Balt turned back in their direction.

“Leave Cas out of this, he's not the one to blame!” Dean called, stepping slightly closer before Balt’s hand started to shake a bit more violently.  Meg started taking baby steps towards the alarm system again.

“You know what Cassie,” Balt hummed, “you're right.  It wasn't your fault.”  He pointed the gun at Dean and motioned him even closer, Meg still creeping closer to the panel.  When Dean had gotten within a couple feet of Balt, the man swung, catching Dean in the jaw and snapping his head to the side.  Dean took the hit without falling, growing up in a country town and splitting up bar fights had done him some good after all.  It  _ hurt  _ though, and he tasted blood, the inside of his cheek had a good sized split in it.

“Balt, please-” Cas started.

“NO!” the blonde man shouted.  “I had a good life, I had people who respected me, I had everything I fucking needed,” his voice settles, gesturing at Dean with the gun. “Until  _ you _ showed up.  All of a sudden Cassie’s growing a fucking conscience, Cassie’s  _ caring  _ about shit, and when profits slip, my boss takes it out of  _ my  _ ass.”  He swings again, catching Dean just above the temple with the gun, and he feels wetness start to drip from his hairline.  “You took my fucking life away, with your pretty face and your fucking nice guy bullshit!!”  Dean meets Cas’ eyes over Balt’s shoulder, the blue stormy with remorse and guilt.

“Something you should know,” Dean says, a very,  _ very  _ stupid plan forming in his head, “is you shouldn't pick a fight with a country boy with a gun that small.  Don't intimidate us as much as you might think.”

“You  _ fucking- _ ” Balt raises the gun and Dean rushes forward at the same time.  He registers the sound of the gunshot, but he's focused in on his target, snatching the gun from Balt’s shaking grip.  Another shot goes off, then Dean has control of the gun, using his momentum to carry himself to the floor, spinning to land on his shoulder and lining up his shot.

The gun goes off in his hand and Meg screams and then there’s silence.

Dean’s ears are ringing from the three gunshots, he’s bleeding into his mouth and eyes, and his entire right side fucking  _ hurts. _  He looks down at his ribs, and sees a large bloodstain.

_ Oh. _

“You're so fucking stupid,” Cas is saying, and Dean looks up to see him kneeling above Dean, helping him sit up against the couch.  Dean chuckles, blood and dripping down his chin.

“Yeah, well, I figured that out already,” he breathes, wincing as Cas pulls his shirt up to examine his side.  “Is-” he spits some more blood out of his mouth, “is Balthazar-”

“He's alive, you hit him in the shoulder,” Cas assured him, using Dean’s bloody shirt to wipe up his face before applying pressure to Dean’s side.  Okay,  _ that  _ hurt.  “You've either got the best aim, or the worst.”

“You kidding,” Dean laughed weakly.  “Dad was an ex-marine, been shooting as long as I've been riding a bike.”  Dean would  _ really  _ like to go to sleep now, that sounds  _ fantastic. _  Cas’ face turns concerned, and he runs his fingers over Dean’s brow.

“Hey, stay awake, okay?  Just stay with me,” Cas insists.  Dean reaches up and takes Cas’ hand, attempting to squeeze it but all he can manage is a weak tightening of his fingers.

“I would, you know.  Anywhere- I'd follow you, but-”  Dean’s trying to get the words out, but it's too hard, he can't keep his thoughts straight. 

“Meg, dammit where are they?” Cas shouts, and Dean’s head throbs, his eyes slipping closed.  “ _ Shit _ , come on, Dean, don't do this.”  He can feel Cas’ hand on his face, the other keeping pressure on his side, and he leans into Cas’ hand.  

“I'm fine, jus need sleep,” Dean slurs, and he's suddenly pressed into Cas’ neck as Cas pulls him closer.

“Dean,” Cas repeats, “Dean, hey, they're here just please- please, fuck, don't-” Then Cas is being pulled away, and paramedics are there asking questions and fussing around, and before Dean really has a chance to absorb what's happening he's on a gurney and he can hear Cas’ voice.  “Just, just be okay, dammit, please, I need you, Dean.  I need you to-” 

The ambulance doors close and Dean knows he needs to stay awake, but if he could just let his eyes slip closed for a  _ moment _ ...

 

 

 

Dean’s eyes opened slowly, dim light from a small reading lamp making him squint.  He shifts his head and winces, sucking in air through his teeth.  His mouth feels funny, his tongue tracing over the cut on the inside of his cheek, swollen but closed up for the time being.

“Dean?”  Cas’ voice is like a balm to his aching head, and he looks over at him.  Cas’ brow is wrinkled in worry, his pants and shirt smudged with…

Yeah, that's  _ Dean’s  _ blood.  

“Hey, Cas,” he coughs slightly to clear out his throat, and groans when it sends a throbbing ache to his brain.  Cas grabs him a glass of water, holding the cup out to him as he takes a small drink from a straw.  His head quiets down a bit, and he attempts to smile up at Cas.  “Can't say the decor in this place is great, but the service is pretty good.”

“Shut up,” Cas hisses.  “You stupid…how the fuck are you joking around after what happened?!”

“Calm down,” Dean grunts, his eyes slipping closed for a moment when his head throbs, “I've taken on bigger guys with bigger guns back home.”  

“I don't give two shits,” Cas voice cracks slightly, and Dean focuses back in on his face.  “You got  _ shot,  _ in my house, your blood was  _ literally _ on my hands, so you don't get to make any fucking jokes.”  Cas’ chest is heaving, like he's just run a mile, and Dean nods slowly.

“Okay, Cas.  Sorry it's just-”

“How you deal with things,” Cas interrupted with a heavy sigh, closing his own eyes and stepping away from Dean’s bed.  “You could have died, in my arms, and I wouldn’t have-” Cas stops short and Dean turns his head at a knock on the door, immediately regretting it, the ache under his temples throbbing back to life.

“Ah, you're awake, good.  I'm Dr. Garrison,” the man introduced himself.

“Hey, Doc,” Dean answered as Cas shuffled out of the room.  Dean watched him go, bit wasn't fast enough to ask him to stay.  “So other than feeling like my head’s going to explode, what's going on?” he asked, turning his attention back to the doctor.

“Well, you're a very lucky young man.  The damage to your head and jaw was mostly superficial, no serious concussions.”  As the doctor talked, he moved around Dean, checking his eyes, feeling along his scalp and side, and Dean just winces and lets him work.  “The bullet grazed your side, bouncing off a rib but not cracking the bone.  And inch or so to the left and you might have suffered some severe internal damage.”  Dean managed to sit up, Dr. Garrison helping to raise the back of the bed as he did so, and Dean lifted his right arm experimentally.  It hurt some, but was tolerable.

“So why did I pass out?  I've had worse than this,” Dean wondered aloud.

“I noticed in your history,” the doctor chuckled before turning serious.  “If you were over tired, or stressed before the gunshot, when the rush of adrenaline faded your body was probably too exhausted to stay awake.”  

“I'd say I was kinda stressed,” Dean laughed bitterly, ending in a small groan when it made his head throb again.

“Easy,” Dr. Garrison said gently, handing Dean another glass of water.  “I kept your pain medication low because I wanted you to wake up.  I can give you something a bit stronger if you need it.”  Movement by Dean’s door drew his attention, and when he saw Charlie’s worried smile, he relaxed and smiled back.

“Not just yet,” Dean said, and the Doctor looked over his shoulder, smiling.

“Okay.  I want to keep an eye on you for another few hours, but you should be able to go home tonight.”  He waved Charlie inside and stepped out the door.

“Dean!!” Charlie squeaked, running over to his bed and grabbing his left hand tightly.  “How are you feeling, are you okay?!”  He squeezed his eyes closed and her voice immediately dropped into a lower decibel.  “I'm so sorry!” she whispered.

“It's fine,” Dean smiled.  He glanced around the room.  “Is my phone in here?” 

“Yeah, here,” Charlie walked over to the chair in the corner of the room, lifting up a bag with some of his clothes in it.  “Your shirt got destroyed when the paramedics arrived at Cas’, so when he called I brought you something clean.”  She handed him his phone, and he somehow managed to unlock it on the first try.  

“Charlie, where’s Cas?” he asked, opening up Google Docs.  She hesitated, sensing the weight in that question.

“He said something about heading to the police station,” she said cautiously.   _ Fuck _ , Dean hadn't thought about that, giving statements and everything.  He'd cross that bridge when he got to it, right now he needed to do this while he still had the gumption.

“Here,” he sighed, handing her his phone with his letter open.  As she read, her face morphed from confusion, to surprise, to upset, and when she finished there were tears in her eyes.  

“Dean, are you really-?”

“Yes,” he sighed, wrapping her up in his good arm when she leaned forward to rest on his chest in a sort of hug.  He swallowed hard when he felt his hospital gown grown damp under her head.  “Charlie, I'm not happy.  I never really was since I moved here.  I found some great friends and I've had fun, but I don't belong in a place like this.”

“This is about Cas, isn't it?” she asked in a trembling voice.  Dean bent his neck to press a kiss to the top of her head.

“Not entirely, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn't a part of it.”  He paused to brace himself.  “I’m in love with him,” he breathed, and it felt like such a  _ relief  _ to say those words to someone.  “But he can't love me back.  Not the way that I need him to.”

“Dean, that's not-”

“True?  Fair?” Dean offered.  She didn't say anything else.  “Charlie, I miss my brother, my family.  I miss the simplicity of my life out there.  This is as much about them as it is Cas.”  She nodded, standing up and wiping her face quickly.

“I guess I better look for a replacement,” she tried to say casually.

“What about Hannah, Dick Roman’s old secretary?” Dean asked quickly.  “She already knows Cas, it should be an easy transition for her, if she still needs a job.”  Charlie nodded, pulling out her tablet and making some notes as she sniffed away the last of her tears.  He felt like absolute shit, and it had nothing to do with his injuries, but he didn't have a choice.  For the sake of his sanity, and his heart, he needed to do something completely selfish for once, and leave.  

Two policemen walked in, and Dean waved them over.

“Alright, let's get this over with boys,” he sighed, watching Charlie’s retreating back as she left his room.  

 

 

 

Dean’s statement, added to Cas’ and Meg’s, convinced Balthazar he was royally fucked, and he decided to roll over on his bosses in exchange for lower charges.  To avoid having to testify in court, Dean didn't press any personal charges of assault.  He just wanted to be  _ done  _ with all this so he could head home.

His recovery was fast, just like the doctor said it would be, and for the next week he spent his time off on his computer, researching the little farmhouse and different mortgage options.  After making sure Dean was okay, Cas left for Anna’s, and Dean was grateful for the distance, though he felt a little guilty.  It wasn't that he was hiding his departure from Cas, but he hadn't exactly  _ told  _ him either.

Charlie and Benny took Dean out on the town almost every night, once he was mobile, doing every single tourist trap and cheesy attraction the city had to offer.  Dean swore to himself he would not allow these friendships to decay once he was back home, though apparently he didn't have a choice, since Charlie had already planned her first visit out to Kansas.

When Cas came home from Washington, he had someone come in to replace the carpet in the livingroom, and subsequently spent Dean’s last couple days with him in the downstairs apartment.  Cas talked with him and acted like not a whole lot had changed, and Dean was able to relax into the charade, to pretend it hadn't either.  They laughed and talked just like they had before the end of the book tour, and Dean buried his feelings deep to keep things easy between them.

Until his last day.

Dean was packing, making sure he did the bedroom first then moving to the living room.  Every bit of his stuff he put away made this leaving more  _ real,  _ chipping away at his heart until Dean was  _ sure  _ it was going to shatter.  Saying he was leaving sounded like a great idea, but now that it's come down to it, knowing that he's about to leave Cas behind feels like he's leaving half of himself behind as well.

Cas walked into Dean’s living room, pulling up short when he saw Dean’s packed bags by the door.  He went completely still, looking up at Dean slowly.

“You're finally leaving.”  Cas’ voice is steady, matter of fact.  Dean isn't surprised that he knows, but it makes this  _ real _ , and an ache starts in his chest that threatens to overwhelm him.

“It's what I have to do for me,” Dean says quietly.  Cas’ eyes harden, a small crease forming in his brow.

“For you?”  Cas’ voice is sharp, and Dean blinks in confusion.

“Yes, for me.  You're the one that’s always pointed out that I never do anything for myself.  This time…I am.”  Dean swallows hard under Cas’ stare, then his boss spins on his heel and walks back upstairs.  Dean follows Cas up into the main house, and Cas is silent until they were standing a few feet apart at the bottom of Cas’ stairs.

“Why?” Cas asked.  Dean laughed, bitter and sad.

“You  _ really  _ don't know?”  Cas simply tilted his head and Dean sighed, running his hand through his hair.  “Cas, this between us, it's...it's been  _ more _ for me, for a while now.  More than work, more than- than friends.  And I-I just...can’t wait for you anymore.”  Dean swallows hard as Cas’ eyes widen and fall to the floor, his hands tucked in his pockets.  

Dean fidgets in the silence for a solid minute before it becomes too much.  

“Say something?” he pleads.  Cas doesn't move, doesn't even raise his head, and Dean has to force air into his lungs.  “Please, Cas  _ say  _ something.  Because I'm, I'm… giving up on you...on you ever…”  Cas finally looks up, his face apologetic, eyes remorseful and Dean doesn't need his answer anymore.  Dean’s will to fight dies, and so does his heart.  

He was right.  Cas could never love him the way he loved Cas.

“I am sorry, Dean,” he finally said.  “But I just don't know how to be that person.”  Dean nodded slowly, his emotions going numb to defend him from the pain.  Cas closed the distance between them, looking up at Dean, those goddamned blue eyes torturing him.  “I wish I had more than physical comfort to offer you,” Cas whispered, something in his eyes telling Dean he didn't quite mean the words.

Cas didn't love him, couldn't love him.  And Dean had known that, he'd known it but he'd stayed, he'd let himself fall deeper and deeper.  He closed his eyes, breathing through the lump in his throat.

He turned from Cas, ready to walk away and leave his love behind.

But that physical comfort he'd mentioned…

It wouldn't be enough, and it was definitely not a good idea, but maybe… just this once, so that Dean could know what it was like to feel Cas.  Would it really be so bad, if it was all Cas could ever give him?

Dean turned back to face Cas, meeting his eyes.

“Is it wrong, Cas, to want that?  Whatever little you can give me?  Does that make me weak?”  Cas doesn't answer him, but his eyes are wide with understanding, and he opens his arms slightly.  They were inches apart, the tension thick between them, and Dean decided to fuck anything and everything in his brain telling him to stop.

He tilted his head in invitation, his broken heart beating hard in his chest.

After all, Cas wasn't his boss anymore.

Cas leaned forward, catching Dean’s jaw between his finger and thumb, and just as Dean prepared himself to finally feel Cas’ lips on his, Cas leaned to the side, brushing his lips over Dean’s neck instead.  Cas’ fingers tangled in his hair and the solid plane of his chest pressed to Dean’s, his lips and teeth nipping along where they explored Dean’s neck.  Dean’s fingers clung to Cas, his hair, his back, bruising in their strength.

Dean refused to let himself  _ feel _ right now.  This wasn't about emotions, couldn't be about them, this was just…

Goodbye.

Cas’ hands were under Dean’s shirt, and his hands were on Cas’ ass, and everything suddenly became more urgent, both sets of hands tugging at clothes and sliding over the skin underneath.  They separated to go stumbling up the stairs, then they were back on each other, tugging and grasping.  Once Cas’ shirt was off, Dean dipped his head, trailing wet kisses down his jaw and throat.  He felt Cas’ hands unbuttoning his own shirt, and he shrugged out of it once Cas finished, lips still attached to Cas’ collarbone.

 More than once their lips almost met, but they'd each glide to the side at the last minute, never meeting in the middle.  Apparently Cas felt it too, that for him to kiss Dean would mean more than either of them wanted it too.  So they kept up the dance, lips and tongues only finding skin, never lips, to avoid this being anything other than physical release.

Cas’ fingers undid Dean’s pants with ease, and he moaned into the skin of Cas’ neck.  Arousal was taking over now, and he was able to sink into it, pushing away the remaining emotion in his chest.  He could give in to the lust and let it guide him on autopilot.

Dean's hands slid down to Cas’ belt, undoing it and his button, divesting Cas of the rest of his clothes.  He let himself be manhandled onto the bed, dropping his head down against the mattress as Cas bent him over onto his hands and knees.  There wasn't anything gentle in this, nothing that spoke of emotion, simply two bodies craving a physical connection.  Cas’ prep was rough and quick, but Dean didn't care, he even welcomed the pain, letting it distract him.

He felt the bed shift, the fingers leave him, then there was the sound of a condom being opened and  _ finally  _ the blunt press of  _ Cas  _ against him.  Warm heat spread through him at the intense burn, and Dean had to remind himself to breathe.

Even through his haze, the moment Cas was fully seated Dean knew he was ruined for anyone else.  No matter what happened in the morning, or for the rest of his life, Cas would always be the only one rooted here, deep in Dean’s soul.  Dean took all the pain, the guilt, and the loss, and let himself  _ feel _ them, only for a moment.  The pleasure of being with the man he loved, and the pain of knowing he would never be loved in return.  He felt  _ everything _ , even letting a few tears slip down his cheeks.

Then he turned it all off, his mind shutting down and just letting his body guide itself on physical instinct.

Small, barely there rolls of Cas’ hips tested Dean’s readiness, and Dean arched his back, moving enough he felt the drag of Cas sliding out before Cas moved himself back in.  Cas hummed, his hands sliding up Dean’s back to take hold of his shoulders.

Cas didn't waste any time, working his hips hard and fast, enough to knock Dean’s arms out from underneath him.  The silence in the room was only broken by the sound of heavy breathing and the slap of skin to skin.  Each thrust of Cas’ hips had Dean’s cock dragging along the sheets below them, the friction was uneven but getting the job done, and Dean was on the brink.  He just needed a bit more…

Cas’ rhythm started to falter and he spoke, a raspy growl that Dean felt vibrate through his whole being.

“Now, Dean.”

Everything went white as Dean came, Cas rolling against Dean’s prostate as he rode it out, succumbing to his own orgasm moments later.  He collapsed against Dean’s back, sweaty and sticky, breath hot against his shoulders.  Wordlessly, they rolled to their sides together, Cas still inside Dean, his arms sliding around his chest to pull Dean close.

Dean passed out before his brain or his body had a chance to come down.

 

 

 

He woke up some time later, the room still dark, with hardly any light to see by at all.  He heard Cas’ deep breathing behind him, a warm bubble of comfort and content surrounding him and his body until he fully came to himself.  

Reality sunk in like a hot knife to his gut.  

He rolled onto his stomach, Cas’ arm sliding off of him and falling onto the mattress next to him.  He stilled, but Cas’ breathing didn't change, and Dean was thankful that Cas was a heavy sleeper.  He pushed himself into a sitting position, wincing as he slid out of bed.  He was sticky, his release and stale sweat covering his skin, not to mention the uncomfortable mess below his waist and the ache in his side.  He scrambled in the dark for his clothes, gathering everything up and turning for the door.

He wanted to look back, to catch a glimpse of Cas sleeping, but looking back would be acknowledging what had happened.  Looking back meant that last night was more than just a quick fuck.  That was all Dean could let it be, the release of tension, simple sex for the sake of physical release.  He couldn't let it be more to him, because it wasn't more to Cas.

He hurried, naked, downstairs, showering quickly and dressing in his clothes from the day before.  He glanced around the bedroom that had been his home, and yet so strange to him.  He had tried, but he'd never really belonged in this town, he'd known that from the beginning.  He was going home, home to Sammy, to the little farmhouse he’d been thinking about forever.

Dean loaded up his car, making one more cursory trip around his apartment, then set an envelope addressed to Charlie on the counter.  He'd written her a short note about work, where he was leaving the key in the garage, and promised to call when he was settled.

He didn't look back at the apartment.

He didn't look back at the house as he drove away.

He didn't look back as he pulled onto the highway.

He drove until he couldn't, sleeping in his car for a couple hours at a rest stop, then moving on again, nothing on his mind except  _ get home _ .

It was close to 1am the following night when he pulled into Bobby’s driveway, the Impala rumbling grumpily at being pushed so hard.

“Tomorrow morning, Baby, I'll take care of you,” he sighed, climbing out of the car and stretching his back and legs, wincing when he put strain on his side.  As he kicked feeling back into his feet, he heard the front door to the house open, a small sliver of light breaking the gloom.

“Dean?” Jo called into the dark, confusion evident in her voice.

“Yeah, Jo, I'm back,” he called tiredly.  She hurried down the steps to him, jumping and wrapping her arms around his neck.  He grunted in pain but hugged her close anyway.  She smelled like the Roadhouse, stale beer and smoke from the kitchen, and underneath that the small amount of perfume she swore she never wore.  He let her down gently, ruffling her blonde hair fondly.

“You didn't say you were coming home,” she said cautiously.

“It kinda happened last minute,” Dean sighed heavily.  “But it's permanent.”  Her face fell.

“You quit your job?  Dean-”

“It's done, Jo,” he said sternly.  She nibbled her lip for a moment, but to Dean’s relief she let it go.

“Sam’s at school, I guess he didn't know you were coming either.”

“No big, I'll show up and scare the shit out of him in the morning,” Dean said, a small smile finally creeping up on him.  Jo rolled her eyes but was unable to stop her own smile as she walked back to the house.

“You're such a dweeb, Dean,” she chuckled.  Dean smiled and followed her inside.

He took another deep breath when he walked in the house.  Fresh linen, the cedar china cabinet, the bare remnant of Ellen’s dinner she’d cooked that night, the pleasantly musty smell of a well loved house.

_ Home _ .

He was  _ home. _

He and Jo carried his things upstairs, and Dean said a quick goodnight, shutting the door behind him.  He kicked off his shoes and pants, dropping into his old bed with a sigh, staring at the familiar ceiling and nestled in the familiar blankets.

It was in the silence just before he fell asleep that he felt the beginnings of pain, but he forced those thoughts away.  He was seeing Sam tomorrow, he'd spend the afternoon working on the Impala.  The next day he'd go to the realtor and make an offer on that farmhouse.  California was behind him, as was Cas.  He took one more deep breath of home in, and pushed out everything else.

He couldn't look back, so he didn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO SO SORRY!!  
> Please don't hate me!!
> 
> Comments make me write faster!!
> 
> And let's see if we can't get the word out about this! I know you guys can do it!!


	10. 10. House of Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a handful of time jumps in this chapter, hopefully it's not too confusing.  
> I also ask for a bit more patience from everyone. I didn't want to rush this, I wanted Dean to work through this at a pace that felt right for him, and this is where I wound up. Enjoy!

 

_ If you're a lover, you should know _ _   
_ _ The lonely moments just get lonelier _ _   
_ _ The longer you're in love _ _   
_ _ Than if you were alone _ _   
_ _ Memories turn into daydreams _ _   
_ _ Become a taboo _ _   
_ _ I don't want to be afraid _ _   
_ _ The deeper that I go _ _   
_ _ It takes my breath away _ _   
_ _ Soft hearts electric souls _ _   
_ _ Heart to heart and eyes to eyes _ _   
_ _ Is this taboo? _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Baby we built this house on memories _ _   
_ _ Take my picture now _ _   
_ _ Shake it till you see it _ _   
_ _ And when your fantasies become your legacy _ _   
_ _ Promise me a place _ _   
_ _ In your house of memories _ _   
_ _   
_ _ I think of you from time to time _ _   
_ _ More than I thought I would _ _   
_ _ You were just too kind _ _   
_ _ And I was too young to know _ _   
_ _ That's all that really matters _ _   
_ _ I was a fool _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Baby we built this house on memories _ _   
_ _ Take my picture now _ _   
_ _ Shake it till you see it _ _   
_ _ And when your fantasies become your legacy _ _   
_ _ Promise me a place _ _   
_ _ In your house of memories _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Those thoughts of past lovers _ _   
_ _ They'll always haunt me _ _   
_ _ I wish I could believe _ _   
_ _ You'd never ruined me _ _   
_ _ Then will you remember _ _   
_ _ Me in the same way _ _   
_ _ As I remember you _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Baby we built this house on memories _ _   
_ _ Take my picture now _ _   
_ _ Shake it till you see it _ _   
_ _ And when your fantasies become your legacy _ _   
_ _ Promise me a place _ _   
_ _ Baby we built this house on memories _ _   
_ _ Take my picture now _ _   
_ _ Shake it till you see it _ _   
_ _ And when your fantasies become your legacy _ _   
_ _ Promise me a place _ _   
_ _ In your house of memories _ _   
_ _ In your house of memories _ _   
_ __ Promise me a place

-*-*-*-

 

Dean woke up after a restless five hours, unable to drift off again once he’d opened his eyes.  After sleeping in a different bed for months, his old mattress felt different, not bad just...off.  He stood and stretched, pulling his jeans back on and wandering downstairs towards the smell of bacon.  Through the window, the sun had barely started to peek over the horizon, the late fall weather making the world a misty grey.  Bobby was sitting at the kitchen table sipping coffee and reading the paper, a second cup of coffee on the table next to a plate of bacon and toast.  Dean was apparently expected for breakfast.

“Morning, Bobby,” he sighed, dropping into the chair and sipping gratefully at the coffee.

“Don't you ‘morning’ me,” Bobby groused.  “Eat up then make yourself useful by getting that car of yours out of my driveway and in the maintenance garage.”

“Yessir,” Dean answered.  Neither of them said anything else, but they didn't have to.  Dean knew Bobby understood he had a reason for coming home, and that Dean would eventually get around to explaining it when he was ready.  And right now he was having difficulty even thinking about the day before, let alone talking about it.  When he'd finished his food, Dean downed his remaining coffee in one swallow and put his plate in the sink.  Dean wanted to look at Baby after pushing her so hard, and opened his mouth to ask Bobby to borrow a car.

“If you're headed out to see your brother, take the pickup, she's gassed and ready,” Bobby said before Dean had a chance.  “Ellen’s off tonight so make sure you're home for supper.”  Dean smiled at the thought of seeing Sam, and at how well Bobby knew him.

“Thanks, Bobby,” Dean sighed.  Bobby nodded, gesturing at the counter where a set of keys and a slip of paper with an address were sitting.  Dean picked them up, plugging the address into his phone’s GPS.

“Dean?” Bobby called, and Dean turned back to look at him.  Bobby’s gaze didn't lift from the paper, but there was a knowing wrinkle in the corner of his eye.  “Good to have you back.”  Dean grinned.

“Missed you too, Bobby,” Dean called.  

“Idjit,” Bobby sighed.  Dean pulled his shoes on, stepping out the door and down the front porch steps with a bounce.  There's a chill in the air, the trees having already lost their leaves, and when Dean stops by the Impala to pull her around the side of the house and the waiting workshop, he grabs his Dad’s old leather jacket out of the trunk, shrugging into it.  It still faintly smelled of tobacco from his dad and motor oil from being in the car, but it was comfortable.  Dean vividly remembers the day he put it on and realized he could fill out the shoulders properly, two years after the accident.  His father had always seemed larger than life, and realizing the jacket fit made Dean realize he'd grown up as well.  He shuts the trunk on his nostalgia with a thud, making his way to the side lot attached to the house to grab Bobby’s pick up.  He climbed inside and turned for the highway, ready to see his brother.

The apartment Sam was living in with Gabriel was just off the University of Kansas campus, close enough for Sam to walk to classes, but far enough that if he couldn't handle the bustle of college life, he had solitude to escape to.  When Sam had first told Dean he was moving in with Gabe this semester, Dean had been wary, but the bond between his brother and Gabe had done nothing but grow.  Even when Sam’s Skype calls had included angry rants about Gabe’s behavior, Dean could sense a fondness there.  Dean had realized that Sam needed his independence to continue his healing, and Dean felt better for letting him have it.

Jealousy about Gabe’s relationship with his brother being one of those things Dean  _ couldn't _ think about just then, he ignored it, instead just thinking about how proud he was that his brother was becoming a real adult.

Dean pulled into the parking lot of Sam’s apartment a couple hours later, the engine of the truck loud in the quiet lot.  It was early morning on a Saturday, Dean wasn't surprised at the lack of traffic to and fro this close to a college campus.  Dean found a parking spot fairly close to Sam’s room, tucking the truck in carefully and killing the engine.  It was a bit too early for even Sam to be up, so Dean passed the time in the truck sending a couple emails back and forth with the realtor who was managing the farm house.  

His substantial savings he'd built up was making the process go much faster, since he wouldn't have to wait for the bank’s approval on a large mortgage.  The website affectionately referred to the farmhouse as a “well-loved” property with character.  In other words, Dean was going to be up to his elbows in repairs and renovations, but he was okay with that.  Even if the house wasn't livable at first, he could bunk at Bobby's for a while, pay them some rent while he worked on the farmhouse.  The inspector was going to meet with him tomorrow to go over everything that needed done.  If enough complicated repairs were needed, he might be able to negotiate the price down a bit as well before making his final offer.

It felt weirdly adult, but Dean was glad for the distraction.

8am rolled around and Dean decided it was late enough to knock on his brother’s door.  He climbed out of the truck, making his way upstairs to the apartment door, knocking solidly on the wood.

“You have  _ got  _ to be kidding me!” Gabe’s loud groan came from inside.  Sam’s answering voice was muffled by the closed door, and Dean listened to people shuffling around in the apartment.  The door was flung open wide.

“You better have a really good reason for being here so-” Gabe’s threat died on his lips, and Dean froze in shock.  Gabe was...well, aside from the pillow he was holding over what mattered, he was quite naked.  His hair looked finger ruffled, and Dean flushed red from his neck to his ears.  He'd just interrupted Gabe and Sam…

“Okay, nope.  That's an image I'm never getting rid of,” Dean groaned, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes. 

“Dean-o!” Gabe laughed awkwardly.

“I'm going to wait right here while you put pants on,” Dean groused, leaning on the wall, his eyes still firmly shut.

“Samsquatch!  Your brother’s here!” Gabe called, shutting the door on Sam's mortified reply.  Dean was contemplating using his knife to gouge his eyes out when Sam emerged a short while later, and thankfully for Dean he was completely dressed.  He went to give Dean a hug, but both brothers decided now was  _ probably  _ not the time.

“Sorry about that,” Sam muttered.

“I'll get back at you for that,” Dean grunted.  “Not sure how, but I will.”

“Nothing was really happening, if that helps,” Sam continued, a furious blush on his face.

“Then why did your boyfriend answer the door naked?” Dean asked.

“It's...it's a long story.  But...why are you here to see Gabe naked in the first place?” Sam asked, his curiosity overriding his embarrassment.  Dean shrugged, reaching out and squeezing Sam’s shoulder.

“Get used to it,” Dean huffed a small laugh, winking at his brother cheekily.  “It's permanent, I've moved back home.”  Sam looked up at Dean quickly, his brow furrowed in concern.

“But, Dean…what about Cas?”  

Something cold slid down Dean’s spine, his smile turning brittle.

“What about him?” he asked evasively, shrugging and glancing at his feet.  “Nothing to tell Sam.”

“Don't do that, Dean-”

“Do what?” Dean cut his brother off before the pain became too much.  “I missed you guys, I missed the quiet life.  Has nothing to do with him.”  Dean forces a shrug, the weight still too heavy.  “It's done, I'm here,” Dean grins at his brother again, jostling him fondly.  “C’mon, why don't you show me around campus?”  Sam looks like he wants to argue, but with a warning glance from Dean he reluctantly lets it go.

Dean knows this isn't the end of it, but he's not ready, not yet.

“Alright, why don't you come in?  Gabe should be done getting ready to go in a bit.”  Sam let them back in the apartment, and Dean glanced around the modestly decorated living room, recognizing bits and pieces from their Skype calls.  Dean made himself ignore the muted conversation he could hear down the hallway, he knew exactly what they were talking about.  But he didn't want their pity, and he didn't want their sympathy, so when the both of them returned to the living room he started up a crude banter with Gabe about defiling his brother, effectively keeping them from cornering Dean to have a ‘talk’.

Dean spent the whole day with Sam and Gabe, dragged from building to building on campus, watching the two of them tease each other with different embarrassing stories.  Dean even got some teasing in when Sam went all geek over the size of the library.  Gabe seemed to have taken the morning’s embarrassment in stride, even making teasing jabs about Dean being jealous of his physique, which turned into pleading apologies when Dean threatened to throw him down the nearest flight of stairs.  Things between Sam and Gabe seemed okay from the outside, but Sam’s comment that morning about the ‘long story’ had made it seem like something was going on between them.  Dean leapt at the first chance he got to speak to Sam alone, when Gabe left them back at the apartment to go get lunch.

“So, that long story you mentioned this morning?” Dean asked casually.  Sam immediately turned bright red, running his hand through his hair nervously.

“You really want to talk about my... _ personal _ life?” Sam asked.  Dean shrugged.

“Not really, but gotta put all this experience to good use,” Dean winked cockily.  Sam rolled his eyes but continued.

“Well, Gabe and I, we've… done  _ things _ , but not, you know... _ the  _ thing,” Sam muttered.  Dean chuckled, knowing he could drag this out but deciding to take pity on his brother.

“So you've hit third base but haven't quite made it to home plate?” he clarified.  Sam groaned and scrubbed a hand down his face.  

“Yes, Dean.”  Sam shrugged, glancing around the living room like he was looking for inspiration.  “I mean, it's not that I don't want to, or he doesn't want to, but we've never gone through with it.  It just…doesn't happen.  And I can't figure out why.”  This was really bothering his brother, and Dean sobered up on his behalf.

“You care about him,” Dean said quietly.  “And you don't want sex to change that.”  Sam nodded, slumping on the couch, his shoulders tucked into himself.  “Look, Sammy,” Dean said gently, “I’m not the best person to ask about this, considering how cavalier I've been.  But, maybe all you need to do is talk to Gabe about it, set down some ground rules.  If you're not comfortable enough to talk to him, you aren't ready.”

“It's kind of a...logistics thing, too,” Sam’s embarrassed smile had Dean’s own cheeks turning red.  Yeah, okay, it's his own fault they're talking about this, and Dean isn't backing down.

“You mean pitching or catching?” Dean asked.

“Uh, yeah,” Sam admitted.  Dean rubbed the back of his neck.

“Pitching is pretty straightforward, kinda how you'd imagine it would be,” Dean muttered.  “Catching is...it requires trust.”  Dean’s skin tingled with memories, but he ignored them.  “Both have their merits, but that's between you two.”  Dean took a deep breath.  “Being with a guy it-it takes patience, okay?  It can really suck if you try to rush it and do it wrong.”  The sound of Gabe’s car returning brought him back to the real world.  “And I'm officially done talking about this,” he groaned.  

“Deal,” Sam said quickly on a sigh of relief.  Gabe burst into the apartment with a flourish.

“Never fear, food is here!”  He paused, looking between the brothers curiously.  “Ooookay, I missed something,” he said slowly.  Dean and Sam glanced at each other and both burst out laughing.  “Fine, keep your secrets,” Gabe huffed, setting out the food.

The rest of the afternoon passed in easy conversation, and when Dean said goodbye to head back to Bobby’s, he had Sam’s schedule plugged into his phone to help plan for future visits as the semester ended.  

Dinner at Bobby and Ellen’s was filled with small talk about Dean’s coming home, technicalities of how life would work now that he was back.  Bobby agreed to slot him in for a few shifts at the garage while he worked on getting the farmhouse ready, and Ellen talked to him about a friend of hers that makes furniture to put in his house.  Neither of them seemed surprised when after dinner, Dean pulled on his boots and his jacket, kissed Ellen on the cheek, and left with a casual  _ don't wait up for me _ .  Dean knew he should have felt guilty for leaving on his first night back, but he wasn't ready to face up to them yet, to explain why he'd given up on LA before even a year had passed.  It felt too much like failure.

Dean walked into the Roadhouse, the familiar smells and bustle of a Saturday night making his smile a little easier.  Jo and Ash are both behind the bar hustling drinks, and Dean squeezes onto a stool in the corner.

“Dean freakin’ Winchester!” Ash called when he saw him, and Dean waved.  A handful of heads turned, and some patrons waved, but thankfully none of Dean’s closer friends were there.  He just wasn't up for dealing with anything but a drink at that point.

“Couldn't even make it a day before showing up here,” Jo sighed as she passed a beer to the guy next to Dean.

“Course not!  How could he resist my face?” Ash bragged as he set up four shot glasses in front of Dean and a beer.  

“Damn near impossible,” Dean chuckled, watching Ash grab a bottle of Ellen’s favorite whiskey and pour out Dean’s shots.

“So, where is that devilishly handsome employer of yours?” Ash asked.

“Don't know, don't care,” Dean bit out, downing the shots in quick succession, letting the burn of the alcohol mask the pain in his chest.

“So Jo wasn't kiddin’, you're home to stay.”  Dean nodded at Ash, wrapping his hand around his beer, the condensation on the glass cold against his skin.  “Well I'll be damned.  And your man crush game was  _ epic _ with that Castiel guy,” Ash chuckled to himself.  Dean set his jaw, every muscle in his body taut and ready to snap at the sound of that name.  Ash didn't know- couldn't know what had happened, and that thought was all that kept Dean from chucking his glass in his face.

“How about we don't talk about LA ever again?” Dean growled.  Ash’ eyebrows shot up and he backed off slowly.

“Sorry, man.  Say no more.”  Ash held his hands up, moving off to serve others and leave Dean to his beer.

“You didn't have to be rude,” Jo scolded as she stopped at the nearest tap to pour a drink.  Dean took a good sized swallow of his beer.

“You don't need to be in my business,” he hummed with a raised eyebrow in Ash’s direction.

“Then why are you here?” she snapped.  Dean dropped his gaze and scowled at the bar, waving with one of his shot glasses for a refill. 

“Leave it, Jo,” he warned with a tired sigh.  He didn't want this, he came here to get drunk and forget for a night, not argue with his adopted little sister about his attitude.  He jumped when she plunked down a half full bottle of decent whiskey in front of him.

“Fine, I'll leave it.”  She leaned in close to punctuate her next words with a scowl.  “But this is the only night you will get a free pass in this bar to drink yourself stupid.”

“Jo, come on,” Dean groaned, leaning back.  Her hand shot out and grabbed his jacket, pulling him back in.

“If you don't want to talk to me, fine,” she hissed.  “But you better talk to someone.  I will not let my dad watch you go the way  _ your  _ dad did.”  She shoved him and made her way back down the bar, smiling like nothing had happened.

Dean rubbed at his shoulder where she'd pushed, frowning at the bottle of whiskey.

He was running, he knew he was, running from what he'd left behind and how he'd left it.  And just like John Winchester, it seemed he had run straight to the bottle.  He needed it though.  Needed it because he couldn't face falling asleep and knowing what he might dream about.  He couldn't face how numb he felt, how even though he was home he was restless.  Dean poured himself a shot, lifting the glass and gazing at the amber liquid.  It wasn't a solution to his problem, Dean was smart enough to acknowledge that.  Starting tomorrow, with the house inspection, he'd have something to keep him occupied.  Tonight, he needed a distraction.

He downed the shot.

 

 

 

He woke up on Bobby’s couch, wearing his clothes from the night before and smelling  _ awful. _  He sat up slowly, his headache not as bad as it could have been, so Jo must have cut him off and taken him home relatively early.  He stretched and winced; his gunshot wound could still be sensitive in the mornings, and the reminder of California gave him a different kind of headache.  Glancing at the time on his phone, he had just enough time to shower and grab something to settle his stomach before meeting the inspector.  It took him a few tries but he managed to climb to his feet, stumbling up the stairs to grab clean clothes.

“Morning, sunshine!” Jo called out  _ way  _ too loudly from her room when he walked by.

“ _ Fuck _ , Jo, really?” Dean groaned, rubbing his temple.  

“It's your own fault,” she hummed, walking out of her room and passing him in the hallway.  “Oh, I'm not sure how much hot water is left…” she added with a smirk, skipping down the stairs.  Dean grumpily grabbed his things and made his way into the bathroom, brushing the stale alcohol out of his mouth before climbing in the shower.  Jo was right, he ran out of hot water about halfway through, but the cold water helped clear his head a bit faster, and by the time he was toweled off and dressed in a tshirt and jeans he was feeling a bit better.

He walked into the kitchen to find Ellen waiting with a cup of coffee and some toast.  He was getting tired of being cornered by his surrogate parents, it was making him uneasy.

“Jo said you had a long night.”  Her voice was casual, but the underlying  _ mom _ voice told Dean he was in trouble.

“Ellen, I’m-”

“I don't want to hear it,” she cut him off with a wave.  “You have your reasons, and I'm sure they're good ones.  And you may not be my boy by blood, but don't you think for one  _ second  _ that I will sit idly by and watch you make your daddy’s mistakes.”  The echo if Jo’s words almost made him smile.

“Okay, point taken,” he sighed.  She walked up and hugged him, her arm squeezing his wound on his side and he flinched away more out of reflex than pain.  Ellen froze, and Dean knew he was in trouble.

“Dean?”  She looked at him suspiciously, going into full mom mode.

“It's fine, it's nothing,” Dean tried to wave it off, but Ellen wasn't having it.  She grabbed hold of his shirt, hiking it up to his armpit.  “Ellen, what the hell?!” he cries indignantly.  She gasps, and Dean knows she recognizes the healing wound on his side, she’d patched up enough over-zealous drunks at her bar.

“Dean, is this…this is a  _ gunshot _ .”  She drops his shirt, and Dean can't tell if she's going to smack him or hug him again.  “Why didn't you call us?!  Is this why you left?!”  

“Ellen,” Dean sighed, resting his hands on her shoulders to calm her down.  “I didn't tell you because I've been hurt worse here in this house.  And no, it's not the reason I left.”  He pulls her into a hug so he doesn't have to face her look of disbelief.  “I'm sorry I didn't call, okay, but I wasn't even in the hospital overnight.  I'm fine.”  The words taste like a lie, but he says them confidently enough that Ellen relaxes.

“I knew when we took you in you boys would be the source of all my grey hair,” she grumbled, pulling away from Dean and smacking him on the arm.  Dean smiled, settling in to eat his breakfast.

“Come on, your life would be so boring without us around,” he called.  She rolled her eyes and left him to his food, his smile fading the moment she left the room.

Jo had taken the truck home last night instead of her car, so once Dean was finished with his food he hopped in it and made the short drive to the farmhouse.  The inspector showed up just after him, and they started their walk through.

It really did look like  _ shit _ .

Most of the grass and weeds in the yard were dying, the winter chill stunting their growth.  The paint was cracked and peeling, and Dean could see places where the front porch was starting to crumble.  On the inside it was mostly aesthetic things wrong, though he was going to have to do some rewiring.  The kitchen counters were about 50 years old and would probably be the first thing Dean took care of outside patching the roof.  The bones of the house were solid though, and the property was the perfect size.  The tiny barn, almost a large shed really, wasn't beyond repair either.  After making an itemized list, the inspector left, and Dean gazed out over what was going to be his new home.  

“I can do this,” he said out loud to himself.  He could focus on hardwood floors and countertops and paint colors and  _ move on _ .

 

The purchase of the house went through a couple days later, and Dean immediately went to work, buying out half of Home Depot and borrowing even more tools from Bobby.  

That first day, he stepped into the kitchen with his brand new sledgehammer, and let loose.  Old particle board and off color countertops crumpled under his onslaught, until there was nothing left but splinters and exposed inner walls.

As the dust settled, Dean removed his safety goggles and wiped away his tears he hadn't realized he'd been crying.

“I can do this,” he breathed shakily.

 

 

And for the most part, Dean did.

 

 

 

He hired on two contractors to help him with the work, two guys that he'd known since he was a kid, Jesse and Cesar.  It was a bit of a surprise when they showed up  _ married _ , but it was a good kind of surprise.  Slowly they made their way through Dean’s list of projects, starting with the big ones like plumbing and wiring, moving to the roof, then the kitchen, then the bathrooms and bedrooms.  Days turned into weeks, which turned into months.  He celebrated his 26th birthday in the Roadhouse with everyone, a party achingly similar to the one they'd thrown him before he left.  Lisa’s boyfriend Matt was a new addition, but he fit into the group well, and didn't seem worried about Dean and Lisa’s past.  The two of them were happy together, and Dean was happy for her.  He always knew one day their arrangement would come to an end, and he didn't miss it.

He'd kept in touch with Benny and Charlie over skype and phone calls, and he enjoyed listening to them talk about their daily lives, just as much as he enjoyed talking about the house.  He could almost taste Andrea’s cooking when Benny would talk about how her restaurant was taking off, and Charlie would regale him with stories of her and Dot’s LARPing adventures.  She went into a bit  _ too  _ much detail about one particular Wizard of Oz variation, and Dean found out that the whole lesbian fantasy thing didn't work if you thought of one of them as your sister.

None of them brought up Dean leaving, though Dean could tell Charlie wanted to.  It just went unspoken between them all, lingering over the conversation every time they ended their calls.  Dean was well on his way to pretending it had never happened.  He was adjusting to life back in Kansas, he had a job and a purpose, and every time he checked something off the list on his house it was like he'd taken another step forward.

 

 

It wasn't until mid February that the proverbial ‘two steps back’ crept up to bite Dean in the ass.

 

 

He was on a group Skype call with Charlie and Benny, resting on the new hardwood floor he'd just finished putting in a few days ago.  He hadn't moved any furniture into the house yet, but he'd set up the Internet so he could access Spotify while he worked.

“So Benny, tell Dean what you have planned for Valentine's!” Charlie tittered excitedly.

“It ain't nothing special-” Benny sighed.

“Benny, are you doing something  _ romantic _ ?” Dean asked his computer screen with a laugh.  “Should I be worried?  You feeling okay?”

“Very funny, wiseass,” Benny growled.  

“He bought Andrea a two week  _ cruise! _ ” Charlie squealed, spoiling the dramatic buildup.

“Wow, impressive,” Dean nodded, grinning at the blush that crept up Benny’s cheeks.  “I knew there was a sap in there somewhere.”

“You’ve had Andrea’s food.  If it means I get to keep eating it for free, you can bet your ass I’m going to keep that woman happy,” Benny drawled with a laugh.  Dean knew it was  _ way  _ more than Andrea’s food that had Benny wrapped around her finger, but he had to admit that woman could  _ cook. _

“He needed to do something with all the time off, lucky jerk,” Charlie explained.  “Must be nice!”

“Eat me, Red.”

“What, Benny putting in for vacation?!  Seriously?!” Dean laughed.  “Now I know hell’s frozen over!”

“Not exactly vacation; the boss left town,” Benny said slowly, and Charlie’s smile faded into a scared look.  Dean watched their pixelated faces closely for a moment, trying to catch what he’d missed.  

Then it dawned on him why they'd suddenly fallen quiet: it was because they’d just mentioned  _ him _ .  

“Okay, moving on,” Dean said gruffly, playing off the awkwardness.  Charlie and Benny were silent for another moment, like they were both waiting for the other to speak.

“Dean, just listen, okay?  We-”

“I said moving on,” Dean cut Charlie off, wincing when she jumped.

“We heard you,” Benny quipped, “but we’re worried about you, brother.”

“Ain't nothing to worry about.  I'm fine,” Dean said, waving away their concern.  ‘Fine’ as in lying through his teeth, but he hoped the computer was hiding that little fact.  He hadn't even thought about  _ him  _ in weeks, and Dean refused to go near that wall in his mind.

“Okay, then say his name,” Charlie said.

 Well so much for avoiding it.

“Whose name?” Dean asked petulantly.

“Told you this would go well,” Benny sighed, his hand rubbing his forehead in annoyance.  Dean let himself feel angry at his friends for talking about him behind his back, because anger was better than pain.

“Dean, come on, don't be like this.”  Charlie's concern was endearing and comforting.  And yet, it was like steel wool against Dean’s skin.  He didn’t want it.

“I'll talk to you later,” he said abruptly, closing his laptop.  He feels like an ass and he deserves it, so he just wallows in that feeling for a moment before climbing to his feet.  He picked up his things and left the house, driving Baby back to Bobby’s.

The Impala rolls to a stop and Dean puts her in park, killing the engine and plunging the car into silence.  He looks up at Bobby’s house through the windshield, and it starts to feel weird to him, like he's seeing it in a mirror, where everything looks exactly the same but it... _ isn’t. _

He realizes it's not the house that's changed,  _ he’s _ changed.  He’s felt something so deep and so real it's scarred him in a way he never understood until that moment in the the car.  He doesn't get up, hardly moves at all except to breathe, the cool February air being forced into his lungs, his body being forced to go on when his world should have ended months ago.

Charlie was right, he couldn't even  _ think  _ about him, couldn't picture him, couldn't think his name.  If that wasn't evidence that something inside him was broken, he didn't know what was.

He isn't sure how long he's been lost in thought, but eventually the passenger door opens and Jo crawls in next to him.  She doesn't say anything, just sits there, a physical reminder of what Charlie and Benny had been attempting to say.  

Dean isn't alone.  He has been shouldering this all by himself for fear of slipping while everyone could see, from the worry that his family would think less of him for running from a great job to come back here and wallow in self pity and doubt.

He isn't alone, and something inside him is broken, something that he can't fix by himself.

“I can do this,” Dean repeated to himself like he had for the past four months, his voice hollow and brittle.

“You don't have to,” Jo said simply.

Dean pulled as much air into his lungs as he could, holding it for a beat before forcing it out, a tremor in his chest.  

_ Say his name. _

_ Just say his NAME. _

“His name w-was...Castiel,” Dean gasped, “and I-I loved-” Dean stopped, because that wasn't right.  “I love him.”

He doesn't stop the tears this time, he lets them come.

Memories Dean had ignored for months swell to the surface all at once, and it’s almost like he’s watching a movie of his own life.  Laughing with Cas, driving through the desert, hours spent curled up on his couch in pajamas talking about angels and soulmates for his story.  Blue eyes, a sharp jaw, the little curl of his hair when it grew out too long.  The ridiculous beard he’d grown out when his book was being edited.  How  _ angry  _ Dean used to get when he'd waste time at those parties, how much he wanted to reach out and hold Cas when he talked about his sister.

And then… the feel of Cas’ lips on his skin, the heat his embrace as he and Dean rocked together…

Dean didn't get to say goodbye, because he'd  _ left. _  They'd slept together and Dean didn't even give Cas a chance to prove him wrong before he left him naked and covered in sex.  

The emotional scar has festered, and Dean feels the pain even more acutely now that he's opened it up all at once.

And to Jo’s credit, she doesn't say a word.  She sits there while Dean crumbles into dust, fingers combing through his hair when he collapses to rest his head in her lap.

Dean cries till no more tears will come, the sun setting and the February chill creeping into the car.  He sobs until his voice is hoarse, every breath harsh against his raw throat.  He clings to every memory of Cas he's avoided in the past four months, each one a precious reminder of what it was like to love someone.

Once the waves have subsided, he lets Jo pull him out of the Impala and walk him into the house.  She pulls off his jacket and gently sits him on the couch, wordlessly tugging off his boots.  With a sigh she covers him with one of Ellen’s quilts and sets up Star Wars on the TV, leaving for a moment and returning with a slice of pie for each of them and mugs of cocoa that smell suspiciously like whiskey.

And so they sit in silence, nothing but the sounds of lightsabers and laser guns in the living room.

Dean’s dimly aware of Bobby and Ellen moving about the house, and at some point Jo takes his empty plate away to the kitchen, but Dean just sits and tries to let his brain process four months of grief.  Four months of missing someone so terribly he ignored it to keep himself from collapsing under the weight.  And the worst part was he couldn’t fix it now, it had been too long.  The damage was done.

He cries again, about halfway through Empire Strikes Back, but the tears don't last long.  He's beyond exhausted but he can't fall asleep, his mind working too hard to let him.

Return of the Jedi ends, and Jo is snoring softly, curled up against Dean’s shoulder under the quilt.  He rests his head against her mess of blonde hair, looking up at Ellen as she wanders into the living room to check on them.

Silently, Dean helps Ellen get Jo up to bed, and once she's settled in her room, Ellen follows Dean into his.

“I’d like to tell you a story,” Ellen said quietly, dropping to sit on Sam’s bed as Dean pulled some sweat pants out of his hamper.  Dean nodded, and she continued.  “Some years ago, I fell in love with a man.  He was a good man, kind, doting.  He proposed to me after I'd known him a week, though I made him wait a few years before saying yes.”  Dean frowned, puzzled, because he'd heard the story of how Bobby and Ellen had met, and this wasn't it.  “He was my world, and for six months we were blissfully happy...until a freak twister came through the town we were living in, and I lost him.”  Dean stopped what he was doing and stared at Ellen.  She wiped a tear away, but was smiling, her eyes distant in memory.  “Bill Harvelle was my first love.  I still miss him, to this day.  And I always will.”  She stood walking over to Dean and pressing a warm hand to his cheek.  “The pain doesn't ever stop, but over time you find ways to remember the good memories too.  To move on and love again.  Bobby is a good man, and I love him fiercely, but it doesn't diminish the love I still feel for Bill.  Now I know you're not in the same predicament as me, Dean, and I know you'll tell me your story when you're ready.  I just want you to know that I'm here, and I just might understand what you’re going through, okay?”

Dean wrapped her up in a hug, and even though he towered over her he still felt so small just then in her arms.  He was a little boy again, who just needed his parent to wipe his tears and tell him it would be okay.

“Thanks, mom,” he gasped.  She chuckled, a little emotion in her voice.

“Don't you mom me, makes me feel old,” she huffed, giving him one more warm smile before leaving the room.  Dean stripped down to his boxers, crawling under his blankets and hugging his pillow tightly as he succumbed to physical and emotional exhaustion.

 

 

 

_ 3 months later _

 

 

 

“For the last time, this is  _ not  _ your party, you don't get to choose what we’re eating,” Dean groused at his brother’s boyfriend, moving through the grocery aisles quickly, purpose in his step.

“But I  _ graduated, _ ” Gabe whined, practically jogging to keep up with Dean.  

“And?  It’s not like you’re annoying ass is going anywhere, you’re starting your masters at the same school,” Dean scoffed.  Gabe wasn’t even moving, he and Sam were keeping the same apartment near campus.

“Yes, but it’s a better excuse than your Good Housekeeping ‘ _ home warming’  _ party,” Gabe scoffed.  

“It’s also a belated birthday party for Sam, unless you’re really so selfish as to try and steal your boyfriend’s thunder,” Dean rolled his eyes, dropping a package of paper plates in his cart.  He had everything he needed now, he just had to make sure he didn’t kill Gabriel before the party that afternoon.

“Fine, pull the Sam card on me,” Gabe grumbled.  Dean scooted into the self checkout line, and once the remaining party supplies had been purchase, he and Gabe were on their way back to Dean’s home.

He had technically finished the house a few weeks ago, but he wanted to wait until after Gabriel’s graduation to get everyone together.  It also gave Charlie time to fly in from LA to visit with everyone, and Sam was on his way to the airport with Jo right now to get her.  Gabe had requested to go to the store with Dean, and he wasn't really sure why because all he'd done the entire time was complain.  

Dean couldn't be bothered with it, though, not today.  The Impala was purring beautifully up through his boots, the late May weather was clear and as close to perfect as it gets, and he was about to host his entire family in a home he owned for the first time ever.

Every room in the house had been stripped down to the bare minimum and reworked by Dean, Jesse, and Cesar, not a single wall hadn't been at least repainted if nothing else.  He'd put in all new light fixtures, new plumbing, and beautiful oak cabinets in the kitchen, the rest of the first floor an open floor plan made up of a huge family room, with a small partition off to the side to separate a dining area.  A small half bath in the corner was accompanied with a little reading or writing nook between it and the stairs, and for lack of anything else to do with the space Dean had put in a desk.  

All of his furniture was mostly hand built, only a few pieces like the couches and plush recliners were store bought.  Being the movie buff he was, Dean had spared no expense on the home theater system, something a lot of his friends had been visiting to take advantage of.  The first floor was done in shades of brown, deep blues and greens for the living area and shades of red woven into the kitchen.  Jo had teased about Dean overcompensating in ‘masculinity’, but Ellen’s approval had set Dean at ease about it.  It reminded Dean of nature, of being here in the country and away from the bustle of city life, and it soothed away his hard edges.

The upstairs has four bedrooms, all of which Dean made sure included decent sized closets, knocking out some walls to adjust the layout.  Dean had gutted the upstairs bathroom and redone it in shades of white and cream.  The three spare bedrooms were completely empty save for one simple guest bed in the one closest to the bathroom; Dean didn't have many belongings so there was no overflow into the rooms. All three spare rooms were done in a simple off white color, the hardwood floor easily covered with some carpet if he ever decided to do so later.  The master bedroom had been larger, but Dean had insisted on expanding the bathroom and closet.  The king sized bed Dean had treated himself only took up about ⅔ of the space, leaving plenty of room for his side tables, dresser, and what Sam had affectionately dubbed his ‘family shelves’.

A wooden shelving unit, about three feet across and five feet tall, beautifully carved and finished, was the centerpiece of Dean’s room.  On the top shelf were framed photos, dating back from when his mom was alive, all the way up to his trip with Sam to Disneyland.  A photo of him, Bobby, Ellen, Sam, and Jo in front of the house (and next to Baby of course) was sitting unframed on the next shelf, waiting for Dean to find a frame he liked.  Dean hoped someday to have all the shelves filled and then some, but he didn't want to look too far ahead.

Shades of blue weaved a delicate dance through the master suite, darker ocean tones in the bedroom, and brighter, icy tones in the bathroom.  The fixtures in the bath were silver, with a custom built glass encased shower and a stand alone tub deep enough for Dean to completely submerge in.  The tilework in the shower had probably taken the longest of the projects on the house, but Dean had wanted to get the patterns just right.  It had been a kind of therapy for him, the one thing he'd done all on his own in the house, swirls and waves of different shades of blue matching what had been his ups and downs in his emotions.  

It hadn't been easy for Dean, once the wall between him and his emotions had been broken, but he'd made it through.  Sam, Jo, and Charlie had been instrumental in his recovery, so much so that he'd started to get suspicious they were coordinating their efforts behind his back.  Sam would be there when Dean needed to talk, Jo would be there when he needed to break out of his self pity, and Charlie would be there on the days he simply needed a distraction.  

Day by day, job by job, Dean got by.  And now, three months later, he's well on his way to healing.  This party was a landmark for him as well as for Sam and Gabe; his final, personal stepping stone on his private recovery path.  Parts of his struggle he'd kept to himself, bad days where he'd immerse himself in the house and just let himself  _ feel _ everything, and that's where the shower had come in.  Written in the patterns of the tiles was Dean’s story, his acceptance that he'd loved deeper than most people ever had a chance to, and his acceptance of the pain that came with it.

“Helloooo,” Gabe interrupted Dean’s thoughts, snapping in front of his face just as they pulled into Dean’s driveway.  Dean rolled his eyes.

“What?” he sighed.  “Did you actually need something at the store and forget?”

“No, I came with you because I needed to tell you something,” Gabriel said seriously.  “And I wanted to do it while we had a few moments alone.”  Dean killed the engine, turning to Gabe with raised eyebrows.  Gabe picked at a tear in his jeans, and Dean sat up straighter.

“Is it Anna?” he asked.  

“Yeah,” Gabe sighed.  He looked over at Dean with a small, comforting smile.  “She's good, she's doing better on both fronts.”  Dean breathed a sigh of relief.

“Great, that's great,” he said, squeezing Gabe’s shoulder.  “Your mom okay?”

“Yeah.  She raised me, remember, she’s a tough woman.”  Gabe winked and Dean smiled.

“Thanks for telling me,” Dean said quietly.  Dean had come to find out from Gabe that the trip Cas had taken, that had given Benny his time off, was up to Washington state.  Anna had contracted the flu, and with the illness came complications with her mental state.  Cas had left to stay with her, even when Gabe had offered to go instead.  Gabe had explained how Cas was basically living there now, but that was all the detail Dean had gotten about his former boss.  It was all he'd really asked for, but this time it wasn't out of denial, it was because he couldn't linger in his feelings for Cas.  Yes, he was concerned about him, but from what little he could read between the lines from Gabe’s short updates, Cas was doing well enough.  Instead, most of Gabe’s updates had been about Anna herself, and his mother’s assistance in taking care of her.

Charlie seemed to be completely in the dark about Cas’ whole situation, which Dean wasn't surprised about.  Cas had always played his sister’s condition close to the chest, and it was weirdly comforting to know that hadn't changed.  The last thing Charlie had mentioned of Cas was that he left he'd given her something to mail to Dean, which she'd only done recently since she'd been afraid of Dean’s reaction.  Dean received the package on time, but hadn't opened it until about a month ago.  The publisher was releasing a special ‘limited edition’ collector set of Cas’ books, and Dean had been gifted with a preprint set.  According to Charlie's note only ten of this gold lettered set had been made, so Dean understood the importance of this gift, he just wasn't sure what to make of it.  Dean had them sitting on the bottom of his shelf in his bedroom, but he hadn't actually taken any of them out of their box.  Knowing the story as intimately as he did, having practically co written some of the fourth book, he felt weird reading them.  Everything would no longer be about the characters, but a commentary from Cas himself, and while Dean had recovered, the pain was still too fresh for him to go through that.

“You okay?” Gabe asked him.  Dean nodded, a heavy breath forcing away his melancholy mood.

“It was good news, Gabe.  I'm okay.”  Dean climbed out of the Impala, grabbing his bags and walking inside to finish setting up for the party.  By the time his guests start to arrive, he's himself again, smiling larger with each familiar face through the door.

Dean basks in the feeling of family.  Burgers off the grill, beers, passive aggressive compliments on his home, lighthearted teasing when Dean flushes with pride.  Charlie fits right in, like she'd always been a part of their group, and it helps Dean see past the reminder she brings of his time in California.  It seems Dean’s place has been agreed on as the location for the Fourth of July cookout this year, and while he plays at being annoyed, Dean is  _ thrilled  _ at the idea.  Bobby and Rufus pause to talk business with him before their drinks get to them.  Dean had converted the barn into a garage of sorts, and he hoped one day to do restorations either as commissions or to resell, using his passion for cars for income.  Bobby and Rufus seem to already have some clients in mind for Dean, and Dean’s already started to lay feelers out to parts suppliers in the surrounding area.

As Dean starts to run out of beer, his guests start to head home in various states of drunk and sober.  Rufus volunteers to drive Garth, Ash, and Cassie home, since Garth is an absolute lightweight and Ash has already passed out.  Cassie rolls her eyes at her boyfriend, and says goodnight to Dean with a small hug before following the gruff older man out to his car.  Bobby and Ellen head home as well, and each pause to tell Dean how proud they are of him, Ellen with a hug and a smile, Bobby with an offhand remark about how hard the wood floors would be to maintain.  

Dean is washing up some dishes, when Lisa steps into the kitchen to say goodbye.

“Hey, Matt and I are heading out,” she calls.  Dean turns off the water and dries his hands, turning to her with a smile.  

“Thanks for coming, it was great to spend some time with Matt, finally.”  She nods with a smile, tucking her hair behind her ear.  He used to have it bad for her, and there used to be a time that losing himself in her curves would be enough for him.  But now...he almost couldn't remember it.  It seems so small now, the love he had for her, because with Cas it was so much...more.

“It's good to have you back,” she grinned, turning with a small wave.  Charlie came in just after she left, walking up to Dean and wrapping him in a hug.

“You're family is the  _ best, _ ” she giggled, and Dean chuckled fondly.

“You're a little tipsy,” Dean observed.  She blew a raspberry against his chest and giggled again.

“I'm a lot tipsy.  Gabiekins is gon’ drive me to my hotel,” she explained.  Dean had offered for Charlie to take the guest room, but she'd insisted on a hotel, something about Dean’s internet speed leaving much to be desired.

“I like that nickname, I think I'm going to steal it,” Sam hummed thoughtfully, walking into the kitchen.

“Dear god, smite me now,” Gabe cried to the ceiling in mock dismay.

“Oh no!  Don't say that, I like you, I don't wanna see you smited.”  Charlie wandered over to Gabe and wrapped him in a hug.  Dean grinned as Gabe slowly walked Charlie out to his car.  Sam leaned on the counter, looking slowly around Dean’s kitchen.

“This reminds me of our old kitchen,” he said quietly, “you know, before mom…”  

“Yeah,” Dean sighed.  “I noticed that after I picked the cabinets out.”  Dean nudged Sam with his shoulder.  “I like it, though.”  

“Me too,” Sam said with a smile.  “I'm proud of you, Dean.  You helped me get out from under the accident, you've worked so hard for years, and now look at you.”  

“Shut up,” Dean groused, pulling Sam into a hug.  

“Make me,” Sam laughed.  He stepped back and turned to go.

“Hey Sammy?”  His brother turned and looked over his shoulder at Dean.  “I'm proud of  _ us.” _

The look on Sam’s face made every single struggle, every bit of work, and each heartbreak Dean had endured over the years worth it.

Dean followed behind Sam to lock the door, noting the heavy feeling in the air that suggested it would probably be storming that night.

“Tell Gabe to drive carefully, if it starts to storm find somewhere to stay put, don't you dare try and drive through.”

“I will, jerk,” Sam called with a wave, climbing into Gabe’s car.

“Night, bitch,” Dean called back.

And then Dean was alone.  

He was mending, he was on his way to happy, but that didn't change the fact that he was living in a house that was too big for one person, and everyday mocked him with its size.  He was doing good, but he wasn't 100%.

Dean finished the dishes and made a trip around his living room to gather the trash up, bagging it and walking outside to his trash can.  The wind was starting to pick up, it was definitely going to storm, and Dean was glad he'd parked Baby in the barn.  Dean dropped the bag into the trash can, and as he turned back he caught sight of some headlights headed down the road.  He watched as they approached his house and started to slow down, wondering who forgot something at his place.  The threat of rain was imminent now, the atmosphere thick and heavy.  Storms out here could be unpredictable, and whomever it was was going to get a talking to from Dean for risking the weather.

He stayed put at the top of his driveway while the headlights approached, turning onto his property and temporarily blinding Dean as they swept over him.  When the car shut off, Dean struggled to see through the darkness as the car door opened and closed.

“Alright, which one of you was dumb enough to drive back here with a storm coming?” Dean called.  The crunch of feet on gravel was all that answered him.  Dean felt his heart start to pound in his chest, inexplicably starting to feel nervous.  His visitor stepped into the range of his porch light, and Dean’s knees almost buckled.

“Hello, Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...... good things come to those who wait....
> 
> COMMENTS MAKE MY FINGERS WORK FASTER!!


	11. 11. Hallelujah

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you that have stuck with me up to this point- congratulations, you've made it through the worst cliffhanger I've ever written. This story gets so many new hits every time I update, I'm really feeling the love guys. Keep it up, keep spreading the love, and keep commenting my darlings :)

_ Oh! _

_ A moment you'll never remember _ __  
_ And a night you'll never forget! _ __  
_ Oooooh! _ __  
__  
_ [Chorus:] _ __  
_ All you sinners stand up, sing hallelujah (hallelujah!) _ __  
_ Show praise with your body _ __  
_ Stand up, sing hallelujah (hallelujah!) _ __  
_ And if you can't stop shaking, lean back _ __  
_ Let it move right through ya (hallelujah!) _ __  
_ Say your prayers [3x] _ __  
_ (Hallelujah!) _ __  
__  
_ My life started the day I got caught _ __  
_ Under the covers _ __  
_ With secondhand lovers _ __  
_ Oh, tied up in pretty young things _ __  
_ In a state of emergency _ __  
_ Who was I tryna be? _ __  
_ Then the time for being sad is over _ __  
_ And you miss 'em like you miss no other _ __  
_ And being blue is better than being over it (over it) _ __  
__  
_ [Chorus] _ __  
__  
_ I was drunk and it didn't mean a thing _ __  
_ Stop thinking about _ __  
_ The bullets from my mouth _ __  
_ I love the things you hate about yourself _ __  
_ Just finished a daydream _ __  
_ Who were you tryna be? _ __  
_ Then the time for being sad is over _ __  
_ And you miss 'em like you miss no other _ __  
_ And being blue is better than being over it (over it) _ __  
  


_ No one wants you when you have no heart and _ __  
_ I'm sitting pretty in my brand new scars and _ __  
_ You'll never know if you don't ever try again _ __  
_ So let's try, Let's try, Let's try _ __  
_  
_ __ [Chorus 2x]

-*-*-*-

 

By some miracle Dean managed to stay upright when he realized Castiel Novak was standing in his driveway, the deep voice was unmistakable.  Dean blinks a few times just to make sure his eyes are working, and when he feels his mouth hanging open he snaps it shut.  Castiel,  _ Castiel  _ is here, at his house.  A gust of wind tugs at Dean’s overshirt and Cas’ plain blue tshirt, and Dean watches as Cas shivers and slides his hands in his pockets.  The movement seems to snap him out of his daze.

“The fuck are you doing here?!” Dean blurts, his brain scrambling to figure out what’s going on.  Cas winced, his gaze dropping to his feet.

“I, uh, I'm not really sure,” Cas shrugged, the gesture uncharacteristically subdued.

“You- you’re not sure,” Dean repeated incredulously.  “You came all the way here to Kansas, you show up at my doorstep, and you’re  _ not sure? _ ”

“I don't know what you want me to say,” Cas mutters.  “I just...needed to see you.”  Cas’ non-answer hits a nerve under Dean’s skin, and anger flares in his chest hot and quick.

“You  _ needed _ to see me?” Dean snapped.  “Why on God’s green earth would you need to see me?  I was just your employee, and then a quick lay while you had the chance.  You made it pretty fucking clear before I left what I meant to you, and it wasn't much.”  Cas hangs his head under Dean’s accusation, his brow pinched.  Dean immediately regrets the words, but it doesn’t cool his anger.  He’d only just started to get over Cas, having him show up like this was ruining whatever progress he’d made.  

“Dean, please, I want a chance to explain.”  Cas’ voice is quiet, and even though the wind is picking up Dean can hear it shaking slightly.  Pain joins Dean’s anger, jabbing into his chest like a knife.

“Explain what, exactly?  Explain how I laid everything out for you, and I mean  _ everything,” _ Dean scoffs bitterly, and from the way Cas shifts Dean knows he’s remembering their last night together as well, “and you just...expect to explain that  _ away _ ?“

“I just want a chance, and if you don't...if you want me to go I'll, I'll go.”  Cas has his head bowed and his shoulders hunched, and it's such a sharp contrast to the confident man he left behind it gives Dean pause.  Even when Cas was upset, when he'd talk about Anna or his father, he kept himself composed, only letting his emotion barely peek through.  This Cas was practically broadcasting his shame.  He seemed... _ broken _ .

“It's been seven months,” Dean points out, surprised at how cold his own voice sounds.  “Seven fucking months I've been thinking that you don't care and you show up here like this and-”  The deep rumble of thunder cuts Dean off.  The wind is picking up, and Dean knows they don’t have long before mother nature comes crashing down on their heads.  And no matter what he's feeling, he can't send Cas away in this weather.  

“Dean-”

“Stop,” Dean sighs, rubbing his forehead with one hand and pointing in the direction of the barn with the other.  “Pull your car around, park it inside, just until the storm passes.”  Cas nods slowly, and Dean sets off at a jog towards the barn, unlatching the door and opening the second bay for Cas’ car.  When Cas pulls around and parks, Dean realizes he brought the red ‘69 Camero, and Dean’s even more concerned about this stupid storm.  If anything happened to that car because of Cas coming to see him…  He swallows the indignant comment he was going to make as Cas climbs back out of his car, just latching the barn behind him in silence and walking with a heavy step back to the front door.  Cas follows him, not saying anything as Dean lets them inside, kicking his shoes off at the door like Dean does.  Dean walks a few paces into his living room, turning back to Cas with more accusations… and when he sees Cas they die on his lips.

Cas is looking around Dean’s home, so small and simple compared to Cas’ home in LA, with an awestruck look on his face, eyes wide and mouth slightly open.  His eyes trace the lines of Dean’s furniture, glance down at the hardwood beneath his feet, travel across the living room to the nook where Dean’s computer is set up.  Now that they're inside with lights on, Dean can also get a good look at Cas himself, and what he sees surprises him.  He hasn't shaved in a couple days, his chin a mess of unkempt stubble, and his hair is longer than Dean remembers, the ends starting to curl around his neck and ears.  The clothes he's wearing are a bit haggard, even for jeans and a tshirt, and overall he just seems tired.

“This is beautiful,” he sighs, his gaze returning to Dean.  “You did an amazing job.”  Dean flushes and runs his hand through his hair, all his anger from before starting to slip away.  Dean’s initial shock is wearing off as well, replaced with the familiar sensation of wanting to reach out to Cas and knowing he  _ can’t _ .  Even after all these months, that sensation is still achingly familiar to Dean’s heart and body.  And it still hurts just as much.  The storm outside starts in earnest, the rain pattering across the windows and the roof.

“Thanks,” Dean sighed after a moment, gesturing at the couch.  “Grab a seat, I guess.”  Cas walks over and sits down, Dean sitting across from him on another chair.

_ Now what? _ Dean wonders to himself.  If he isn’t going to channel his hurt into anger and rip into Cas for what happened, what is he going to say?  Once Dean had accepted what happened, his mind had been filled with questions he wanted to ask Cas, about that night, about them.  Dean’s entertained fantasies of what he'd do when he saw Cas again; one fantasy where he immediately drowns him in kisses, one where he punches him in the teeth.  He’s imagined a hundred different conversations, and yet Cas is here in his living room, now, and all Dean does is...nothing.  It's like his brain can't process it, can't figure out that this unkempt man who keeps avoiding Dean’s gaze is the same man who broke his heart.

“How's Sam?” Cas finally says into the silence.

“Doing good.  Grades are good, he seems to really enjoy his classes.”  Thinking of Sam reminds Dean of Gabriel.  “I uh, heard about Anna.  I'm glad she's okay,” Dean adds.  Cas smiles, a small frail thing, fading almost as soon as it appears.

“Yes, she's doing well.  The doctor’s believe a warmer climate might help prevent this in the future, so I'm looking into some options.” 

“So closer to you in California, somewhere?”

“Yeah, something like that.”  Cas shifts on the couch, turning a bit to the side to avoid facing Dean directly.  “Did you get your copy of the books?” he asks, a tension in his voice catching Dean’s attention.

“Yeah, I did.”  Dean watches Cas carefully, but he doesn’t react further to Dean’s answer.  “You didn't have to give me that special copy, Cas.”

“Of course I had to,” Cas said with a wave.  “It's not like I gave you proper compensation for your work on the last book.”

“Work?” Dean huffed a short laugh.  “Cas I barely did anything, I let you bounce ideas off of me, that's it.  And as far as compensation goes, I didn't want it.”  Dean’s taken aback slightly when Cas’ gaze suddenly snaps up to his, his expression unreadable.

“Dean did you…have you read the last book?” he asked slowly.

“I uh, I haven't,” Dean admits guiltily.  “It felt weird after...after the way we left things.”

“I-I understand,” Cas’ gaze drops back to his lap.  “My apologies, I should have realized how uncomfortable that would be for you.”  The formal apology and the small talk finally push Dean to his limit, his emotions rising to the surface again.

“ _ This _ is uncomfortable,” Dean groans, scrubbing a hand down his face.  “Sitting here making small talk with you, like we hardly know each other...I still don't know what you're even  _ doing _ here.”  Cas’ left hand toys with the hem of his shirt, twisting the fabric between his fingers.

“I think, I think Anna being sick opened my eyes to a few things.”  Cas glances up at Dean before turning away again.  “Like how horribly selfish I was.  How lost in my own head I could be at the expense of one of the only friends I've ever had.”  The word ‘friend’ stings a little, but Dean is used to the pain by now and ignores it.

“So, what, you came to apologize?  Just out of the blue?  After  _ seven month _ s of total silence?”

“I don’t know,” Cas admits, absently rubbing his chin.  “I don’t know what I’m doing, Dean.”  Cas’ expression darkens.  “Lately I’ve been asking myself that question a lot, and I don’t have anything remotely close to an answer.”  Silence falls between them, rain tapping against the windows and thunder the only other noise in the house.  A question comes to Dean, and he blurts it out before he loses his nerve.

“Why did you let me sleep with you?”  Dean swallows thickly as refreshed memories make the rejection start to ache anew.  “After everything I had just admitted to you… You knew me Cas, no matter what I said you should have known how much that would hurt.”   _ How much it still hurts, _ Dean thought to himself.  “You should have known that we shouldn’t sleep together.”  He’s just as much to blame as Cas, but he already knows his reason for going through with it, and has thoroughly punished himself for it.

“Why?  Because sex is the only way I know how to connect to people.”  Cas’ cheeks flush, and he distractedly nibbles his bottom lip.  “I know I fed you some logical bullshit about how I was okay being alone my whole life, but...but the truth was I,” Cas sucks in a deep breath, “I just...didn’t know how to open myself up to those kinds of emotions.  I had never had someone  _ care _ about me before, and I thought, you know, maybe if we...if we were... _ intimate _ it would trigger something in my head.”  Cas turns his gaze to the ceiling like he’s searching for some strength.  Dean doesn't give the implication in those words a chance to sink in.

“So you waited until the  _ day  _ I was leaving to suggest we have sex?  On the off chance it might ‘change’ something.”  Dean rubs his temple; everything is muddled with pain and anger, and he can't wrap his head around it.

“I wanted you from the day I met you in that warehouse, but after talking to you I realized you wanted to keep things professional, so I didn't offer.”  Dean’s cheeks heat, because he'd felt the same physical attraction to Cas the moment he'd laid eyes on him that night.  He hadn't thought Cas had even noticed him.  “And then later, I was afraid of losing your friendship,” Cas admitted with his own blush and a miserable sigh.

“Cas, sex wasn't going to fix anything,” Dean said, shaking his head.  “I'd been pining after you like some fucking lovesick puppy for  _ months, _ and by then I was in a pretty fucked up place,” Dean chuckled darkly.  “I blame myself for being weak, and god knows I’ve punished myself for giving in, but you...you could have  _ stopped _ me.”  Dean swallows hard to keep his voice from cracking.  “I needed you to stop me.”  Dean hates dragging all these feelings out into the light, but he can't  _ stop  _ either.  It's like the pain proves it happened, and if he  _ needs _ to feel it.

“I know.”  Cas’ voice breaks.  “And when I woke up and you were gone that was on me.”  Another silence falls between them, thick with regret and tension.  Dean didn't know what he expected from Cas, maybe a hollow apology, or an attempt to sweep this all under the rug.  He  _ wasn't _ expecting to see so much guilt and hurt in his eyes and body language, especially when Dean spent the last seven months telling himself Cas didn't even  _ care _ .

“Why didn't you say anything?” Dean asked, his eyes slipping closed to stave off his headache.  “You could have just told me all this back then, saved us both from making a huge mistake.”  

_ Mistake. _

Dean had never thought of it that way before, but that's what sleeping with Cas had been- a mistake.  He may not regret it, but that didn't change how utterly fucked it had made his situation.  He looked back up at Cas and saw Cas had buried his face in his hands, his elbows on his knees.

“I'm sorry,” he mumbled from behind his hands.  “I'm sorry, Dean.  I shouldn't have come here and dragged all this up.”  

“You think?” Dean snaps, and apparently the anger is back.  He can't even keep track of his own goddamn emotions, and he's getting whiplash from bouncing back and forth.  “What did you expect to happen, just showing up like this?  Did you really think I'd be so happy to see you again that we could just pretend the last seven months didn't happen?”

“I just hoped you'd be willing to talk,” Cas mumbled.

“You can't fix this with words,” Dean grunted.  “Cas I didn't just have this little crush on you, I  _ fell  _ for you.  And when I told you, you acted like it didn't mean  _ anything _ .”

“I didn't mean to hurt you, I didn't- I never…” Cas’ arms fall helplessly at his sides.

“Just seeing you again...it fucking  _ hurts, _ Cas.  I was doing good, I was getting past this, past us, I was happy again.”  Dean runs his hand through his hair, tugging to try and clear his head.  “And you show up here, and I remember how I felt with you and...and I know I'm not happy, not really.”  And it's true.  Dean may have been content with his house, being home with his brother and his family, but he wasn't really  _ happy. _  He had a huge hole he carried with him every day, a hole he'd never be able to fill with his family alone.

“I feel that, too,” Cas breathes, a thickness in his voice like he's struggling not to cry. 

“What I felt for you… damnit it was  _ real _ , Cas, all that fucking life changing chick flick bullshit.”  

“I know,” Cas says miserably.

“Doesn't seem like it.”  Dean can feel the venom in his voice, and when Cas shudders and rubs at his eyes, he instantly regrets it.  Even now, with adrenaline and hurt swirling through him, seeing Cas hurting makes Dean wince, and he pushes himself to his feet before he does something impulsive like wrap Cas in his arms and apologize.  After all this time he still  _ hates  _ seeing him cry, even if it's justified, and what does that say about how fucked up he is?

Because even after seven months Dean is still utterly gone on this guy, and probably always will be.

_ Fuck, _ Dean needs a moment to think.

“It’s not safe to leave until this storm passes,” Dean sighs.  “I'm going to finish cleaning, the TV remote is on the table.”  Dean turns without waiting for an answer and walks out into the kitchen.  After a moment, the television turns on and fills the silence, mumbled words and sounds that Dean tunes out.  Dean busies himself finishing the dishes, gathering up the recycling and leaving it by the trash can.  He wipes down the counters, cleans out the sink, polishes the stove, anything to extend his time alone as he thinks.

Castiel obviously felt awful about what had happened between them, but Dean couldn't tell if he missed their friendship or if it was more than that.  Had Cas’ feelings changed in the last seven months?  Was that even possible?  It sounded like it, but Dean couldn't get his hopes up, that would just be asking for trouble.  Dean tossed the Clorox wipe he'd been using on the table in the trash, leaning heavily on the counter.  

There is one thing he can do, he can stop taking his anger out on Cas.  Whatever else is going on, Cas is genuinely remorseful, that much Dean can tell for sure.  He closes his eyes and breathes deep, allowing himself to calm down.

Hesitantly, Dean made his way back out into the living room, carefully tidying up in the aftermath of the party, painfully aware of Cas’ presence.  He avoids looking over at his couch, sliding some of his tables and chairs back into place, picking up pillows and wiping down cup rings.  His body heats, and he can literally  _ feel _ Cas’ eyes on him, but he's afraid of what he’ll see so he doesn't meet those eyes, just returns to the kitchen with a few dishes and pieces of trash he missed.

“Dean?”  He startled at Cas’ small voice, spinning to face him with a flush on his cheeks.  Cas had followed him back to the kitchen, standing just outside the entrance.  “May I use a restroom?” 

“Yeah, in the back past the stairs,” Dean says, his breath rushing out of him once Cas has turned away.  Another flash of thunder seems to mock Dean, reminding him that for the near future he's stuck with Cas alone in his house.  He pulls out his phone to text Charlie, knowing she's probably passed out but needing to at least try and talk to someone.

_ You: You're never going to believe who just showed up. _

Dean went to put his phone away, but it buzzed before it hit his pocket.

_ Charlie: Really? Who? _

Dean frowned.  That was  _ way  _ too quick a response, so unless Charlie was waiting…

Wait...why  _ had  _ Charlie gotten a hotel room?  

Realization sinks in, and Dean groans.

_ You: Actually, why don't you tell me? _

_ Charlie:... _

_ Charlie: okay, don't be mad please.  He wanted to talk to you, and I just...gave him your address. _

Dean set his jaw and took a deep breath, switching off his phone before Charlie could text him anything else.  It probably wouldn't be much of a stretch to say Gabe was involved too, and he resolves to get even once he's sorted his shit out.  He loves his friends to death, but this was a step too far, even for them.  

The clock on the stove blinks over to 10:47pm, but Dean feels like he's been awake for days, utter exhaustion washing over him.  He switches off all the lights in the kitchen, moving out into the living room as Cas leaves the bathroom.

“I'm going to head to bed,” Dean explains.  “There's a guest room, first door on the right when you head upstairs.  If the storm doesn't let up, feel free to wait it out in there.  If you want to leave, the door to your car is latched but not locked, you can go.”  Cas’ eyes watch him, carefully trying to see if Dean’s kicking him out, and Dean swallows hard.  “If you don't leave, I'll see you in the morning I guess.”  Dean turns and heads upstairs before Cas has a chance to say anything.  He shuts his door behind him, letting out a ragged breath, leaning heavily on the wood.

He'd just invited Cas to spend the night, indirectly and evasively, but he could wake up in the morning and Cas could be there for breakfast.

“Fuck my life,” Dean groaned, stripping down to his boxer briefs and dropping his clothes in his hamper.  He glanced at Cas’ books as he walked by the shelves, the gold lettering on the box catching his attention.  Cas had seemed nervous when he’d asked if Dean had read them, and almost disappointed when he’d admitted he hadn’t.  Curiosity got the best of him, and he grabbed the box, dropping onto his bed and really looking at the books for the first time.  He knew the print and the packaging looked slightly different than the other copies, but the little note “ _ with a new introduction by the author” _ was still added to the back of the packaging.  He pulled the first book out, flipping to the first page and rolling his eyes at Cas’ signature.  He'd probably signed a whole bunch of copies then decided to send one to Dean after.  He went to search for the introduction, but the dedication page caught his eye.

_ ‘For Anna _ ’ was still there, like usual, but Cas had added something after it.

_ And for this special edition: to my Roan.  You fought for me, and for my story, when no one else did.  Now I want to fight for you. _

Two small sentences that shake Dean to the core.

_ My Roan. _  He reads the words over and over, like they're going to change, like the ink will rearrange itself on the paper.

_ My Roan. _

Roan was the hero in Cas’ books, the character who felt he was flawed, but still fights tooth and nail to survive, to beat the odds, to find his lover through hell itself.  Roan’s struggle is as much with himself as it is with his environment, and Nick admires and loves him for it, in the end proving to Roan that his perceived flaws are really strengths.

Did Cas really see Dean that way?

He flushed, flipping to the new introduction and reading through it.  Most of it is a thank you to his readers, an undetailed description of his story’s inspiration (no names or details about Anna’s condition).  Then Dean reached the last paragraph.

_ My personal journey of self has been a long one, and at times it's been just as difficult as Roan’s journey.  My outlook on life had been grim at times, and apathetic at others.  Recently, I've reevaluated that outlook, not because of success, or because of some altruistic reason.  I selfishly wanted to change because I met someone I wanted to be like, someone I wanted to feel I was worthy of knowing.  If you're reading these stories, and feeling lost because you'll never have a friend or a lover like Roan’s companions: don't give up that hope just yet.  Whether you believe it or not, even the most stubborn, self absorbed asshole has another equally stubborn soul out there to bond with.  Life isn't perfect, and neither are relationships, but when you find it, and you will, hold onto it. _

The last couple sentences are blurred by tears, and Dean blinks them away, shutting the book.  

Cas hadn't said the exact words, but the emotion Dean could read in his writing threatened to overwhelm him.  Anyone who doesn't know Cas won't notice, won't see how much Cas was hurting when he wrote that but Dean can.  He  _ feels _ the heartbreak in Cas’ words, and Dean starts to wonder for the first time if maybe he had been wrong.  Maybe it wasn't a strong friendship that had been growing between them all that time, but  _ more _ , and Dean just hadn't let himself see it.  He'd been so afraid of losing what little they had he had been blind to letting it become everything it could be.

And now he  _ really _ feels like an asshole.

He'd left Cas without a goodbye, without a chance at an explanation, because he'd been so afraid of the rejection he was sure was coming.

The note in the introduction was obviously for him, but he started to wonder if anyone else knew.  How many of his friends and family had read Cas’ practical confession to him and had been afraid to ask Dean about it?  Come to think of it… the world had to know about it at this point, and Dean, the one it was intended for, was the last one to find out.

Dean puts the books away, grabbing his phone out of his pants pocket, and turning it back on.  He ignores the messages he got from Charlie and pulls up his browser, Googling Cas’ name out of curiosity and selecting the ‘news’ tab.

_ Hot YA Author Topping Charts… _

_ First Top 5 Bestseller with LGBT Character at the Helm... _

_ Mysterious Incident at Home of Author Castiel Novak… _

_ Author Castiel Novak: Out and Proud… _

_ Author Castiel Novak’s Rumored Love Connection… _

_ Personal Relationship Inspiration for Novak’s Recent Story... _

Dean skimmed through the articles, but none of them seemed to have any real details on who the line was for, mostly unsubstantiated speculation.  Dean wondered briefly if he'd still been working for Cas if he'd have been dragged into the rumors.

Dean put his phone away, turning off the light and crawling under his covers.  The rain had slowed, still tapping on his window but not as often.  In the relative quiet, Dean heard footsteps on his stairs, and the door at the end of the hall open and shut.  

Cas was staying.

Dean was half tempted to get out of bed and walk down to his guest room to demand answers from Cas right then and there, but didn't.  Cas’ answers, whatever they'd be, would be useless if Dean couldn't figure himself out.

Could he move past this?  Were his feelings for Cas still strong enough to recover from seven months of separation and pain?

Dean eventually fell asleep, drifting off just as the storm passed.

 

Dean wakes up with a start, his sheets tangled around his legs and torso. Another noise from downstairs explains what woke him so suddenly.

Last night hits him all at once, and he groans, stumbling out of bed and into his bathroom.  He turns on the water to warm up as he pees and brushes his teeth, deciding to skip shaving that morning in favor of getting downstairs quickly.  He washes in record time, dressing in the first pair of jeans and tshirt he grabs out of the closet before heading down to the kitchen.

Cas is at his stove, cooking breakfast.  The action itself is nothing earth shattering, he's made Dean breakfast more times than Dean can count over the time they’ve known each other.  But here, in Dean’s custom built kitchen that is so similar to his childhood home, the domestic act has his heart leaping painfully into his throat.  Cas plates up the omelets he had in the pan, putting some pieces of toast on each plate as well and walking them over to Dean’s kitchen table.  

“I’m sorry if I overstepped,” Cas said timidly, setting them down next to silverware and two cups of coffee.

“No, this is fine, Cas.  Thanks.”  Dean sat down at the table, and with a small relieved sigh Cas sat across from him.  They ate in silence, but it wasn't as awkward as the night before, and Dean was grateful for that.  They both needed time to think, to adjust to the other’s company again, and if Dean was totally honest with himself, Cas’ cooking was keeping his mouth busy anyway.  Once they're finished with their food, Dean takes their dishes to the sink, needing something to do while he attempted to start a conversation.

“I understand if you need more time,” Cas says, garnering up his courage before Dean.  “In hindsight I realize showing up like this was probably not the best way to approach you.  I can just leave my number…” Cas sounds so lost, and Dean’s heart aches because  _ he  _ did that.  He said all that hurtful shit last night and while he's still not sure if he’s ready to jump back into their old friendship, Dean can recognize when he's being a dick.

“Let's take a look at that car before you leave, at least,” Dean says casually, drying off his hands.  “Need to make sure she's okay after the long drive.”  He meets Cas’ eyes, and it's the closest Cas has come to a smile since he arrived.  Dean feels a little flutter in his chest.

“Okay,” Cas agrees simply.  Dean pulls on his boots, waiting as Cas gets his shoes on, before he leads the two of them out to the garage.  The air is sticky from last night’s storm, but not unbearably so, a light breeze keeping the humidity at bay.  He unlatches the door and sighs when the Camero comes into view, the curves and bright red paint unbearably beautiful.  Cas walks over to the car and leans in the driver’s side door to pop the hood, walking back around to the front of the car.

“Now remember, Cas, she's a lady,” Dean says.  Cas raised an eyebrow at Dean, waving him over to the car and stepping out of the way.  Dean sighs, fingers caressing the metal as he reverently lifts the hood, carefully and precisely locking the stick in place and letting his eyes wander over the engine.  It was in pristine condition, not exactly gleaming but clean and in good shape all the same, obviously as well loved as his Baby.  Cas walks over to Dean’s toolbox, and comes back with the exact wrench that Dean was just about to go get himself.  It's almost like a peace offering, and Dean takes it without comment.  “Did she handle okay on your way over?” he asked instead, just like he would any other customer.

“Yeah, she's always been a little finicky when I hit 70, but she's solid,” Cas explains.

They talk about the car, and Dean works on autopilot, tuning, adjusting, checking fluids.  Cas is right there, handing Dean tools before he asks for them, and proving that he really does know his way around the inside of an engine.  Dean knows it's stupid, that it has nothing to do with “them”, but Cas’ competence with cars helps the knot in Dean’s chest unwind.  It’s a place of commonality, a starting point for them to try and get back on their feet, and Dean’s grateful for it.  They finish the tuneup an hour and a half later, and Dean gently closes the hood, wiping the engine grease off his hands on a rag.  Now that the car is finished, the distraction from their problem is also gone, obvious in how they both fall silent.  Dean walks over to his tool bench to tidy up, bracing himself for what he's about to say.

“So I read through your introduction last night.”  He doesn't have to wait long for Cas’ embarrassed reaction.

“I should have told you, instead of writing that stupid public love letter,” Cas groans, taking a few steps away to sit on an old beat up metal cooler.  

“So it  _ was _ about me,” Dean sighed, mostly to himself.

“I didn't know how else to say it,” Cas huffed.  “I'm fine with writing words, but saying them…”  Cas’ hair was matted to his forehead from sweat, a few grease smudges on his cheeks and neck, which Cas added to when he wiped at his forehead with the back of his hand.  With his shirt clinging to his sweat damp skin, Dean’s able to see Cas has lost some weight, his muscles more sharply defined now that his torso was leaner.  Immediately Dean starts to wonder if Cas is eating enough, and getting enough sleep, and he shakes his head to get back into focus.

“You just had to say it, Cas.”

“You think I didn't try?” Cas spat, and Dean to his credit didn't flinch.

“Sure didn't seem like it,” he muttered.  Cas stood, his hand opening and closing at his side.

“I guess not,” Cas laughed bitterly.  “I practically spelled it out for you, but I guess that just wasn't enough.”  

“You did?” Dean asked, frowning slightly.  Cas blinked up at him, his body relaxing slightly in surprise.

“Are you- no, you're not kidding.”  Cas pushed his breath out in a heavy sigh.  “I stopped the parties because I hated how you looked at me when I came home.  I made sure the schedule for the book tour aligned with Sam’s fall break so you could see your brother.”  Cas paces closer, determination in the set of his jaw and his voice.  “I picked the Hall of Fame for  _ you, _ because you wanted to go so bad and…” Cas paused, a flush spreading up his neck.  “I asked you to read my manuscript for the last book because half the dialogue between Roan and Nick was what I wished I had the guts to tell  _ you. _ ”  Dean has to remind himself to breathe when his lungs start to ache.

Was Cas telling the truth?

If he was… if he really had done all of that for Dean… then that meant that it wasn’t all one sided.  The whole time.

A memory pops into Dean’s head of a freshly showered Cas leaning over Dean in his study, and the sex scene Dean had just finished reading...their almost kiss at the Hall of Fame.

“I- I don't-” Dean goes to run his hand over his neck, and notices he's still covered in engine grease.  “I need to change,” he mutters distractedly, turning for his house.  Cas’ footsteps follow behind him a few beats later.

Dean had noticed those things, every single one of them, but he'd written them off.  He'd convinced himself there was no way Cas could care for him, so he'd refused to see what had been right in front of his face.  The small, quiet moments between them in their hotel rooms, the soft smiles Cas  _ only  _ gave to Dean; he'd ignored them, told himself it was just their friendship and apparently the entire time Cas was really…

“You're serious?  About all that?” Dean asked as he kicked off his shoes at the door.  Cas nodded, doing the same, tucking his dirty hands in his pockets, all his fight gone now that he's said what he wanted to say.

“I wish I wasn't shit at this,” Cas sighed.  “I wish I could've gotten over myself long enough to just say this before.  Everyday I'd see the way you looked at me and I'd...fuck, I wanted it but…”

“Wait,” Dean was still trying to catch up with what Cas was saying, “you knew?  You knew how I felt?” he asked.  Cas bit his lip and dropped his gaze to the floor.

“I did.”

Dean walks a few steps further from Cas, trying to get air into his lungs.  

Cas knew.  He'd known before Dean’s confession, and he'd still played dumb that night, he'd slept with Dean knowing…

“Did you do it on purpose?” Dean asked.  

“Do what?” Cas asked.

“The night we slept together, did you distance yourself from me on purpose?!”

“I-”  Cas swallows hard and nods.  Something cold settles in Dean’s chest, and pain takes hold of his heart, squeezing so hard he can't hardly breathe.

“So you fucked me cold like a stranger, knowing what you meant to me, what that night could have meant for  _ both  _ of us-”

“I did that because I didn't deserve you!” Cas blurted.  He squeezes his eyes shut for a beat before opening them to stare at Dean, the bright blue glassy with tears.  “I hurt you and I'll never forgive myself for it.  But I did it because I wanted you to forget about me.”  Cas swallows hard and continues.  “You're...fuck Dean you’ve got such a good heart, you deserve someone who can match it and I'm… I'm fucking damaged goods.”

Dean's heart breaks all over again, but not for a love he's lost.  It breaks  _ for  _ the man he loves.  

Because, yeah, he’s coming to realize that in spite of the hurt and the pain, he's still in love with him.

“You're not damaged goods, Cas,” he sighs tiredly.

“You could have died,” Cas breathed, just above a whisper.  “You were laying there in my arms, a gunshot in your side, and for all I knew you were dying and I couldn't even tell you then.  I couldn't- I couldn't-”  He's shaking, trembling where he stands, and Dean swallows hard, trying not to imagine their situation reversed.

“Cas,” he reached out, his hand resting on Cas’ shoulder, and it's like an electric current, running through both of them and linking them together.  Cas looks up at him, blue eyes wet with tears and filthy with motor oil, and Dean starts to think that maybe…

Maybe he could forgive him.

Things were far from where they were before, but he realized they both played a part in the spiral they'd wound up on, neither of them were blameless.

“I'm sorry, Dean,” Cas whimpered.  Dean trails his hand up Cas’ shoulder to his neck, finger gently nudging the stubble and car grease along his jaw, and Cas’ breath hitches in his throat.

“I know, Cas.  Me, too.”  Dean pulls his hand back, clearing his throat.  “Look, we've got a long way to go, but if we're going to do this, we’re doing it right, okay?”

“Do this...you- you want to…?”  The burst of hope in Cas’ eyes is too much for Dean and he turns away.

“I'm going to shower.”  He grabs a towel out of the downstairs bathroom.  “Put this down on the car seat and get back to the hotel room you and Charlie are sharing.  I'll come get you in a couple hours.”  He watches Cas’ fingers brush his as he takes the towel from Dean.  “Maybe we could start over,” Dean adds.  Cas nods, clutching the towel like it's a precious gift, and Dean almost smiles.

“Okay,” he agrees to Dean's terms, walking over to pull his shoes back on.  He pauses before he leaves, halfway out the door.  “How did you know about Charlie?” he asked.

“She gave herself away last night,” Dean shrugged.  This time he did smile, the right corner of his lips pulling upward against his will.  “You can let her know I'll get even somehow.”  Cas nods, his eyes softening into a half smile before he leaves, the door shutting behind him.

Now Dean has to figure out what the hell he’s going to do.

 

“It's not a date,” De an tells himself for the 200th time.  It's just dinner, so he and Cas can talk through this.  A dinner alone, at one of the nicer places in Lawrence, with a man who's admitted to returning Dean’s feelings.  So what if he actually spent time doing his hair, if he pulled out his fancy cologne and dressed in his nicer slacks and green button up?  So what if he primped in the mirror like a teenage girl because this  _ wasn't a date _ .  

His stomach is in nervous knots by the time he pulls up to the hotel, climbing out of the Impala to walk into the lobby.  Cas is pacing near the seating area, and looks up as soon as Dean walks in.  

_ Fucking hell. _

Cas isn't dressed any nicer than he usually is, but it's such a 180 from what he looked like that morning it takes Dean a moment to get his heart out of his throat.  His charcoal button up and khaki slacks don't leave much to the imagination, his new, leaner body accented beautifully in the nice clothes.  He's shaved, and his hair has been combed over, for the most part.  Dean watches Cas’ eyes travel over him, and there's a slight blush on his cheeks when he meets Dean’s eyes.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas.  Ready?” he asked, glad his voice didn't sound as nervous as he felt.  Cas nodded slowly and Dean led him out to the Impala.  They climb in, and in the confined car Dean can smell Cas’ cologne, a spicy scent that Dean may or may not breathe deep to take in.  He swallows hard as all sorts of memories are dragged up just by that smell alone.

“Charlie has been properly warned of your wrath,” Cas said, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Good.” Dean nodded.  “Now I let her stew in it for a few days, and eventually she'll freak out and apologize before I even do anything.”  Dean tries to keep a straight face, but fails when Cas chuckles, the sound brushing over his skin and soothing his nerves.

“I don't think you'll have to wait long, she already seemed ready to break,” Cas pointed out.  The Impala rumbles down the road, and Cas runs a hand fondly over the dash.  “She sounds good, Dean.  I missed her,” Cas admitted.  Dean flushed with pride, and he knew Cas was partly just trying to score some points with him but he didn't really care.

“That's my best girl,” Dean hummed proudly.  He glanced at Cas out of the corner of his eye, deciding to be the better man and extend an olive branch.  “When do you have to leave?  She’s due for a check up and uh, well, it was nice working with you on the Camero and, I thought, maybe, you'd like to give me a hand.”  Cas’ small gasp made Dean smile.

“You'll let me work on Baby?” he asked softly.

“Course, I know you can handle her,” Dean shrugged, because Cas was making this into way too big of a deal.

“I'd love to Dean.”  Cas folded his hands in his lap.  “I'm not on any particular schedule, I can stay as long as I'd like,” he added.  Dean nodded, his heart thumping at the way Cas’ voice had trembled at the end of that sentence.

“Good.”  He pulled them into the restaurant parking lot, giving the hostess his name, and she smiled, walking them directly to a table.  Cas raised his eyebrows.

“Wow, I'm impressed, no wait?” he asked, glancing around the mostly full restaurant.  Dean flushed, rubbing the back of his neck shyly.

“Don't be too impressed, I've known Krissy since she was little, she's just doing me a favor.”  He waved at the hostess stand and Krissy stuck her tongue out at him before turning to help the next customer.  The waiter came to take their drink order and Dean ordered a beer, smirking when Cas gave him a slightly judgmental look and ordered an Italian margherita.  When the waiter walked away Dean raised an eyebrow at Cas.

“What?” Cas asked, fidgeting nervously.

“You, judging me for ordering a beer,” Dean chuckled lightly.  

“Well, this place is nice, I thought maybe you'd get a whiskey or something,” Cas muttered.  

“You can take the guy out of the dive bar, but can’t take the dive bar out of the guy,” Dean shrugged with a wink.  Cas rolled his eyes, but Dean caught the smile hidden under the gesture.  This felt good, Dean reflected, just relaxing, teasing each other like they used to.  Now that their frustration had been voiced, it seemed they both needed to get past it.  Dean knew he was more than ready to put the last seven months behind him, not to forget them, but to accept the lost time for what it was, and get started on living life again.  Their waiter came back and dropped off their drinks and some bread, taking their meal order and leaving them alone again.  Cas picked at a breadstick, glancing up at Dean shyly.

“It's been awhile since I've done this,” he shrugged.

“Done what?  Eaten Italian?” Dean quipped. 

“You know, been on a date,” Cas said.  His eyes widened and he sat up straighter in his seat.  “Unless, you know, this isn't a date, I mean, it's just…” he trails off into silence and Dean grabs a breadstick, pointing at Cas with it to grab his attention.

“You're cute when you're nervous,” Dean flirted.  Cas blushed, but relaxed back into his seat again.

Who was Dean kidding, this was a fucking date. 

Dean kept up his offhand flirty comments, catching Cas off guard more often than not, and his cheeks had taken on a permanent blush.  It took Cas a while to get past his fear of saying something wrong, but eventually he relaxed, and even started flirting back.  By the time they finished dessert, they may or may not have accidentally brushed their feet together under the table a few times.

“You know, the moment she sees you, Ellen is going to shove food down your throat,” Dean chuckled as he pulled away from the restaurant.  The unspoken invitation to see Dean’s family again was accepted by Cas with a smile.

“As long as it's not tonight, I'm  _ stuffed. _ ”  He paused.  “Also, why?”

“You've slimmed down some since I saw you last,” Dean observed.  “Not that I'm complaining because,” Dean clicks his tongue suggestively, “but Ellen is going to think you're not eating.”  Cas flushed, his hand running over his stomach slowly.

“I spent a lot of excess energy at the gym the last few months,” Cas turned his gaze down to his lap.  “Seemed healthier than alcohol or drugs to cope with Anna being sick.”  

“I had Gabe keep me updated,” Dean said into the quiet that followed Cas’ explanation.  “I'm...I’m sorry you had to go through that alone.”

“I had Gabe, Aunt Hester.  Charlie, too.  She and I grew closer after you…”  Cas sighs, and Dean glances at him out of the corner of his eye.  Cas looks thoughtful, his head tilted down like he’s praying, the line of his jaw accented by the passing street lights.  “I had a lot of time to think,” Cas said quietly.  “To come to terms with everything.  Anna getting better was kind of the catalyst for me coming to see you.”

“How so?” Dean asked.  It didn't hurt as much, this time, talking about their time apart, and he was relieved that it was already getting easier.

“I think, knowing I almost lost everything, I wanted to try and make things right with you.  To at least know I tried to say I'm sorry.”  Cas had been focused on his hands while he talked, and as they pulled to a stop, Dean held his breath while he waited for Cas to realize where they were.  Cas glanced up, blinked a few times, then turned to Dean with wide eyes.

“Come in, have a drink,” Dean said with a smirk, nodding at his house.  He climbed out of the car, and was about halfway to his door before he heard Cas follow.  He took a few calming breaths to keep his heart from pounding out of his chest as he let them back inside his house.

Dean had been struggling with this all through dinner, if the night would end after they ate or if Dean would be ready for...well  _ anything _ else.  He already knew Cas, knew what he liked and disliked, fundamentally he hadn't changed.  Flirting, talking, laughing like they used to...Dean was still desperately in love with the man, that was obvious.  As Cas kicked off his shoes, following Dean into the kitchen and accepting the offered beer, Dean had to decide.  He needed to decide if the pain he'd felt would let him have this, and if the risk of feeling that pain again was worth it.

“Cas,” Dean started, “what happened between us...it isn't going away, but I think I can accept it.”  Dean sipped his beer.  “Thanks, you know, for coming.”  Cas takes a long drink of his own beer, his blue eyes looking up to meet Dean’s.

“I told you once, my biggest regret in my life was not standing up to my father,” Cas said softly.  “My struggle accepting how I feel about you was, indirectly, because of what he made me.  So when I let you walk away, I had failed, yet again, to stand up to him.”  

“Cas…” Dean breathed, “you are so much more than what he did to you.  You were scared.  So was I, and we both let it get the better of us.”

“It's part of who I am, Dean.”  Cas took another drink, examining the mostly empty bottle.  “What if I let it get to me another time?  I can't- I can't lose you again.”  Dean sets his beer on the counter, walking up to Cas slowly to take his bottle and put it down as well.  Dean's heart was pounding in his chest, his hands were sweaty and he was beyond nervous, but he stepped into Cas’ space all the same.

“Cas, you never lost me,” he confessed on a heavy exhale.  The words hang in the air between them, and Dean feels a weight lift off his shoulders, his next words coming easier.  “Every day for seven months, you still had me.”  Cas squeezes his eyes shut and his head falls forward, resting against Dean’s chest, his breath coming in shuddering gasps.  Dean rests his hand on the back of Cas’ neck, his chin resting on the top of his head.

“I'm so fucking sorry.”  Cas’ voice is thick with emotion, and Dean swallows around the lump in his own throat.  Cas is utterly vulnerable, laid bare before Dean, and Dean understands the gesture.  He knows that this is just as much about Cas himself as it is about their relationship.

“I know, Cas.  It's okay, sweetheart.”  Tension leaks out of Dean’s body as Cas’ arms wrap around him, his hands clinging to his back tightly as he shakes in Dean’s arms.  “It's okay, Cas.”  Dean breathes into his hair, and it is.  It is because they've both suffered enough, and it's time to let it go.

Dean walks Cas upstairs to the guest room, leading him to the edge of the bed and sitting him down.  He presses a kiss to his forehead as he pulls Cas’ arms from around his middle, and Cas whimpers, clinging desperately to his wrists.

“Please, don't leave,” he pleads.  Guilt twists at Dean’s gut, and he nods, letting Cas pull him close again.

“Okay, Cas,” Dean chuckles lightly.  “Let's go to my room then, alright?”  Cas nods, releasing Dean enough that he can lead Cas down the hall.  When they step inside the master suite, Cas lets out a small gasp.

“Dean this is wonderful,” he breathes, eyes practically caressing the lines and curves of the furniture.  He walks over to Dean’s shelves, running the pads of his fingers over his books sitting on the second shelf.  “You've put so much of yourself into this place,” he hummed.

“I had help,” Dean shrugged off the compliment, walking up behind Cas and gently resting his hands on his waist.  Cas huffed a small laugh, turning slowly in Dean’s arms till they were practically nose to nose.

“I mean, this whole house is so warm and comforting...it feels like...like home.”  Cas shakes his head.  “I'm sorry, I’m waxing poetic on you like a geek.”  Dean flushes, smiling shyly at Cas, and Cas’ brow smooths out as his anxiety melts away.  Dean lifts a hand to brush some hair off of Cas’ forehead, pressing his lips to the newly exposed skin.

“How about some sleep, handsome?” he asks, and Cas nods.  Dean pulls away, moving to his closet and returning with an extra pair of pajamas and an old AC/DC shirt, handing them to Cas.  “You can change in the restroom,” he says, pointing at the door.  Cas nods and makes his way to the bathroom, sighing happily when the light comes on.  

“Dean-”

“No more compliments alright, sheesh,” Dean scoffed.

“The tilework alone...you should do this professionally,” Cas says, shutting the door most of the way behind him, leaving it cracked open slightly.

“Nah, I'm too attached to my cars,” Dean chuckled in reply, walking over towards his bed to plug in his phone.  Dean shucks his button up shirt, quickly changing into pajama pants before Cas reemerges dressed in  _ his  _ clothes and holy fuck Dean didn't realize what that would do to him.  His shirt hangs overly loose on Cas, Dean’s bulkier shoulders and weight having stretched the material over the years, the pajama pants hanging low on his waist.  Dean's so preoccupied staring at Cas he doesn't notice the look Cas is giving him until Cas steps into his personal space, the pads of his fingers trailing softly over his scar from the gunshot, and oh yeah he forgot to put a shirt on.  Dean’s breath hitches in his throat as Cas sits on the bed in front of him, bringing him eye level with the red mark on his side.

“I was so  _ angry _ with you,” Cas’ voice is soft, his fingers still exploring Dean’s skin.  “You and your need to protect me.  I didn't want you to get hurt, and when that gun went off and I saw you bleeding, I, I…”

“I'm alright, Cas,” Dean hums.  Cas leans forward, pressing a chaste kiss against the scar, sending a full body shiver up Dean’s spine.  He tangles his hand in Cas’ hair, lost in the sensation of Cas’ lips  _ worshipping  _ his skin around his injury.  It wasn't sexual, Cas’ touches weren’t about that.  Every brush against Dean’s skin was a benediction, and Dean let his eyes slip closed, accepting the action for what it was.  An apology in its purest form, and Dean’s gentle scratches against Cas’ scalp the answering acceptance of that apology.  Cas’ attentions stopped, and Dean opened his eyes too look back down at him.

“You sure I can stay?” he asked.  Dean grinned, sliding past Cas to the space in the bed behind him, the two of them climbing under the covers together.

“You can stay, Cas.”  Dean stretched out on his back, and Cas hesitantly pillowed his head on his chest, his arm wrapping tightly around Dean’s torso.  Dean nuzzled into Cas’ hair, breathing deep as his arm slipped around his shoulders, his fingers tracing lazy circles against his skin.  Dean wanted to stay awake, to savor the moment of finally having Cas warm and pliant against him, but he was so worn out he ended up slipping off to sleep almost immediately.

 

Dean woke up surrounded by heat, and unable to move.  Blinking his eyes open, he smiled softly, running his fingers up Cas’ arms where they were locked around his torso, his body molded to Dean’s back.  Breath tickled the back of Dean’s neck, and he attempted to roll towards Cas.  All he actually succeeded in doing was pressing them closer together and brushing against a very awake part of Cas’ anatomy.  Dean’s body was responding in kind, a flush stealing up his chest as he started to harden in his pajamas.

This thing between them was so new and fragile, and their first and last experience had been...well, not great.  Dean hadn’t even fully confirmed with words that he and Cas were ‘he and Cas’, so sex was most definitely not something he’d planned this soon.  Would it set them back, bad memories making things awkward again?  Or would it be the change that finally put the nail in that proverbial coffin?  Cas grumbled in his sleep and rocked closer to Dean, his nose pressed to Dean’s shoulder.  

Dean decided he was done being scared of this.  He was done letting worry and doubt in himself keep him from being happy.  He was in love with Cas, and he wanted this, and fuck everything that was going to keep them apart.  He wasn't letting Cas go again. 

He shifted Cas’ arms, finally able to roll over and face him, and the movement pulled Cas into wakefulness.

“Hmm?” he groaned, blinking his eyes open, squinting at Dean.  “Dean?”  

“Good morning,” Dean hummed with a smile.  Cas smiled back, his arm still wrapped tightly around Dean’s back.  Dean snuggled closer, slipping his leg between Cas’, and Cas froze when his erection came in contact with Dean’s thigh, his eyes opening comically wide and a red flush spreading over his skin.

“I'm- sorry, I didn't-”  Cas was cut off as Dean laughed, a full on belly laugh, and  _ God _ it felt good.

“In case you haven't noticed,” Dean sighed, rolling his hips, “you’re not alone.”  The hitch in Cas’ breath was hypnotizing, and Dean wanted to hear it again.  He leaned in, nosing against Cas’ neck and pressing his mouth to skin, gently tugging the flesh between his teeth.  Cas swallowed hard, his pulse increasing under Dean’s lips.

“D-Dean,” Cas gasped.  “Are you- I mean…”

“Castiel Novak,” Dean said sternly, leaning back and smiling when Cas’ eyes snapped to his.  “I want you, and I want to be with you.  Are you okay with that?”  Cas’ mouth worked wordlessly for a moment, before a grin broke out across his face.

“I am amenable to that proposition,” he hummed, and  _ there _ he was, the confident, wordy man Dean knew was hiding beneath the guilt and the doubt.  Dean rolled them, bracing himself above Cas, dipping their hips together and humming happily when Cas bit his lip and rolled against the thigh between his legs, a muffled whimper in his throat.

Dean’s eyes traced Cas’ lips, and was struck dumb by the fact that they hadn't even kissed yet.  Cas tugged his bottom lip between his teeth again, releasing it slowly, smirking when Dean’s wide eyes moved back up to his.

“First kiss, kinda a big deal,” Cas teased.  Dean chuckled, dropping his forehead to Cas’.

“You think you can handle it?” He breathed against Cas’ mouth.

“Well, I mean, it's just a kiss, I've had-” Cas’ words were muffled into a moan as Dean captured his lips.

Why had he waited so long to do this?  This was  _ perfection _ , kissing Cas was everything he’d hoped and so much more.

Dean refused to break away, even to breathe, lips and tongues and teeth exploring and teasing continuously, sharp gasps for air when a lip was nibbled or when mouths opened to shift positions.  Dean rolled their hips together, moaning into Cas’ mouth, and Cas responded by thrusting upward against Dean's length.  Dean took that as permission and, while still exploring Cas’ mouth, slipped a hand between them to palm Cas through his pants.  Cas’ whimper was swallowed by Dean’s tongue sliding along his teeth, his back arching to press his chest into Dean’s.  Cas was so responsive to him, and while he’d like to say he was keeping a better handle on himself, the truth was Dean was falling apart just as quickly.

Cas’ hand slips through the opening in Dean’s pajamas, fingers exploring hard flesh, and his hips buck forward into Cas’ hand, want spreading like wildfire through his skin.  His fingers trail below the borrowed pajamas covering Cas, closing around his cock and squeezing gently, Cas’ answering moan music to Dean’s ears.  Cas’ spare hand is trailing all over Dean’s skin, down his back and up into his hair, tugging and pulling as he ruts into Dean’s fist, his other hand swiping over the head of Dean’s cock, spreading the precome to ease his slide.

And still, their mouths don't part.  Gasping and panting as best they can through the kisses, their lips remain connected, even as they both start to reach the edge.  Dean moans into Cas’ mouth as he explodes over Cas’ fist, sucking Cas’ bottom lip between his teeth as Cas grunts and Dean’s hand is covered in his release.  

Dean’s lips are bruised and tingling as he finally breaks for air, panting heavily against Cas’ chin.

“Dean,” Cas moans, his eyes wide and glassy, his smile pulling at his own kiss swollen lips.  Dean smiles at him, lowering himself gently over Cas’ body, wiping his hand clean on his pajamas, Cas doing the same.

“Morning, sunshine,” Dean said with a grin.  Cas laughed, his clean hand sliding into Dean’s hair to tug him in for one last gentle kiss.

“Best first kiss ever, by the way,” Cas hummed.  

“Damn straight,” Dean huffed.

“Don't you mean, ‘damn gay’?” Cas asked.

Dean laughed, he laughed and Cas was there laughing too, and for the first time in a long,  _ long _ , time...Dean was happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cue the tears and the angels singing and the flocks of butterflies*
> 
> YOU MADE IT EVERYONE YAAAAAYYY THANK YOU FOR NOT KILLING ME IN MY BUILD UP TO THIS!!
> 
> I've got a couple more chapters planned, can't finish this story without the title song being used after all!! ;) not sure how fast they'll get posted but eventually they will :3


	12. 12. Death of a Bachelor- Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No I promise this isn't an April Fools joke. This is the actual chapter.   
> Okay fair warning: SO MUCH SMUT.
> 
> ...I would apologize but...

_ Do I look lonely _ _   
_ _ I see the shadows on my face _ _   
_ _ People have told me _ _   
_ _ I don't look the same _ _   
_ _ Maybe I lost weight, I'm playing hooky _ _   
_ _ With the best of the best _ _   
_ _ Pull my heart out my chest _ _   
_ _ So that you can see it too _ _   
_ _   
_ _ I'm walking the long road _ _   
_ _ Watching the sky fall _ _   
_ _ The lace in your dress tingles my neck _ _   
_ _ How do I live _ _   
_ _   
_ _ The death of a bachelor, Oh oh oh _ _   
_ _ Letting the water fall _ _   
_ _ The death of a bachelor, Oh oh oh _ _   
_ _ Seems so fitting for _ _   
_ _ Happily ever after, Whooo _ _   
_ _ How could I ask for more _ _   
_ _ Lifetime of laughter at the expense _ _   
_ _ Of the death of a bachelor _ __   
-*-*-*-

 

Dean and Cas eventually climbed out of bed, but not before Dean left a pattern of hickeys along Cas’ neck, the too large shirt making it easier for him to cover more skin.  He admires them proudly before he extricates himself from Cas’ embrace to stand by the edge of the bed.  His cock gave a valiant twitch of interest as Cas sighed happily, stretching his arms above his head, his cheeks flushed and hair ravaged by Dean’s fingers.  Dean flushed and turned away from the tempting sight to dig around in his closet for some clean clothes for Cas, finding a clean pair of jeans and another tshirt.

“Do we  _ have _ to put on clothes?” Cas sighed, walking up behind Dean and resting his chin on his shoulder, his hands falling to Dean’s hips.  Dean leaned back into his embrace for only a moment.

“As appealing as it sounds to watch you work on Baby in the nude, it’s not exactly safe, and I don’t want you to be arrested for public indecency,” Dean chuckled, turning and handing Cas the clothes he’d picked out for him.  Cas pouted, and Dean leaned in, kissing him until Cas smiled against his lips.  A giddy happiness came over Dean, because he was  _ allowed  _ to do that now.  Dean resolves to never take this second chance they've been given for granted, ever.

“Mmm, I suppose I can accept working on Baby as a legitimate excuse,” Cas sighs, taking the clothes and turning for Dean’s bathroom.  Dean watched him go, noting the extra sway to Cas’ hips that the little shit was adding on purpose, and he shook his head at his crotch.  He’d  _ just  _ gotten off, he shouldn’t be perking up this quickly.  Then again, it was  _ Cas _ , he'd made Dean practically come in his pants once just by driving a car.

“I think I have a spare toothbrush,” Dean said distractedly as he followed Cas into the bathroom, digging around in his cupboard till he found one.

“Thank you, such a gentleman,” Cas hummed, taking the toothbrush with a flirty smile.  Dean didn’t care how cheesy it was, it was fucking adorable.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Dean chuckled, spreading toothpaste on his brush and winking at Cas, earning himself an amused eyeroll.  

Dean and Cas shared heated glances in the mirror, the flirting progressing into nudging each other with their hips and elbows as they brush their teeth and shave.  Cas’ eyes hardly leave him the whole time, unashamedly glancing at  _ all  _ of him, and it's a good kind of exposed feeling.  When Dean turns to the shower, he even pays Cas back with a little sway to his hips, stretching out to reach in and turn on the water in a way that would flex the muscles in his back.  An interested hum comes from behind him, and he turns back to the mirror, catching the last moments of Cas lifting his shirt off his torso.  Dean swallows thickly, his eyes taking in Cas’ new physique, toned and defined muscles in his chest, the flex of his back muscles as he lowered his arms and tossed Dean’s shirt aside.  His eyes traveled upward and met Cas’ knowing smirk, and he flushes as Cas slowly walks closer, his fingers untying the drawstring on his borrowed pants.

“See something you like?” Cas purred.  Dean reached out, grabbing Cas by the hips and pulling him close, kissing him softly.

“Maybe,” he hummed, kissing him again.   _ God  _ he could get used to this.  “I am quite fond of these lips.”  Cas quirked an eyebrow, and with a wiggle of his hips, his borrowed pants fell to the floor.  He leaned in close to Dean, lips ghosting his ear as Dean struggled to absorb that Cas was standing naked in his bathroom, the steam already starting to curl his hair.

“Undress, get in the shower,” he demanded, pulling away before actually touching Dean’s skin.  Goosebumps spread across Dean’s body and he quickly shucked his own pajamas, following Cas into the shower.  He barely had time for the water to dampen his skin before strong hands were pushing him up against the tiled wall, a kneed anchored between his legs and a nose pressed to his neck.

“Ngh, Cas,” he gasped, hands scrambling to find purchase against Cas’ damp skin.

“Mmm, yes Dean?” he hummed, his voice a deep rumble in his throat.  Dean shamelessly rode the thigh between his legs, already hard and ready in spite of their earlier activities.  Cas’ tongue traced a pattern along his neck, his hips pinning Dean in place, and Dean wants to give into it, just let the physical pleasure carry him away to his waiting bliss.  

Instead, his brain starts buzzing with a question, and he needs to get it out before anything else happens.

“I need to ask you something,” Dean gasped, knocking his head against the tile when Cas’ attentions stop, because  _ why  _ was he doing this now?!  Cas pulled back a bit further, his chest lifting off of Dean’s, and Dean nearly whined at the loss of contact.

“What is it?” Cas asked.  Dean swallowed hard, taking a steadying breath before speaking.

“So we are...us, right?” he asked.

“I would like that very much, yes,” Cas nodded without hesitation, his eyes searching Dean’s face.  Dean ran his hand over Cas’ chin, his thumb tracing a line across his cheekbone.  Cas’ eyes softened as Dean’s other hand came up to brush along his neck, pulling their foreheads together, noses brushing as the steam floats around them.

“Okay,” Dean breathes into the air between them.  His fingers run up into Cas’ water damp hair, and Cas’ palms trace lines across Dean’s chest.  He can feel it in Cas’ touch, in the way his eyes watch him closely, so full of adoration; Cas wants this just as bad as he does, and is just as scared of losing it.  Dean’s eyes are drawn to the blue tiles surrounding them, and he realizes that the flowing shades of blue almost perfectly match the eyes of the man standing in front of him.  In the height of his pain, he found comfort in this particular shade of blue, and the significance of that wasn’t lost on him.  Cas never really left him.  

Dean comes to a rash decision, but he doesn't feel any regret about it.

“Are you alright?” Cas asked, fingers nudging Dean’s chin gently. 

“You said you didn’t have to leave, right?” he asked slowly. 

“I’ve got nowhere to be,” Cas nodded, his head tilting in slight confusion, making Dean’s stomach flutter.

“So stay here,” Dean blurted.  Cas’ eyes narrowed, then flew open wide.

“Dean, are you-”

“Stay,” Dean breathed, fingers dropping to squeeze the back of Cas’ neck.  “I know you have Anna, and your house and life in LA, but I can’t…”  Cas cut him off with a bruising kiss, attacking Dean’s mouth with a desperate fury.

“I already sold my house in LA,” Cas huffed on a laugh when he broke for air, “and I’ve already started vetting some locations here in Kansas for Anna.”  It took Dean’s brain a few moments to catch up.

“Wait… what?!” Dean gasped.

“When I came to see you, an optimistic part of me had hoped that you'd forgive me.  And if you had I intended to move out here to be closer to you.  Not move in with you specifically, but into the area, anyway.”

“But, what if I hadn't?  What if I'd told you to fuck off?” Dean wondered.

“Even if this fell through,” Cas explained calmly, running his hand over Dean’s chest.  “I was ready to move on from LA.  You not being there...I couldn’t stay.” 

“Cas, LA is your home-”

“No,” Cas insisted, his lips and nose brushing Dean’s face, “it stopped being my home the moment you came into my life.  You're my home.”  Dean swallows the sudden lump in his throat, and Cas smiled shyly, pushing past the suddenly emotional moment.  “Besides, we’ve already lived together once, right?  Should be nice and simple.”  The water is still running over them, rivulets running along the lines of Cas’ chest, and Dean tries to wrap his head around the fact that he’d just asked Cas to move in with him.

And Cas had said yes.

Dean switched their positions, pressing Cas back against the tile and kissing him firmly, Cas’ hands tangling in his hair as he rolls his hips, both of their flagging erections springing back to life.  Cas moves in sync with Dean, their cocks sliding together in a blissful explosion of friction.  Dean is overcome with a need to worship this man, to show in action all the emotion thrumming in his chest.  He steps back and drops to his knees without hesitation, nuzzling along Cas’ stomach and lower, pressing soft kisses to his hips.

“Dean,” Cas moans, his hands dropping to Dean’s shoulders as his hips shake, his cock twitching as Dean hovers over it.  

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Cas,” Dean breathed, taking him in hand and giving him a few slow strokes.  “Your mind, your heart, your  _ body _ ,” he emphasizes the word with a lick against the tip of Cas’ length, and Cas bucks into the touch, a whine bubbling out of him.  Dean looked up through his lashes, making sure he had Cas’ eyes on his, then he swallowed him down in one smooth slide.  

“ _ Fuck,”  _ Cas cried out into the bathroom.  Dean’s second blow job was just as awkward and fumbling as his first, bobbing his head and flicking his tongue over the tip the way he knew he liked, changing up his technique as Cas reacted differently.  Apparently, whatever he was doing was working, because Cas was moaning and writhing like a porn star, and Dean had to drop his hand to his own cock to relieve some of the pressure.  Cas was  _ gorgeous, _ pressed against the blue tile, flush from the chest up, mouth open in an ‘oh’, and Dean couldn't help but whimper.  Cas’ eyes flashed at the sound, and he pulled Dean up off his knees, crashing their lips together and shoving Dean hard against the wall.

“Cas,” Dean gasped, and Cas groaned, taking Dean in hand and jacking him quick and dirty.  

“You are far too fucking beautiful when you're on your knees for me,” Cas breathed into Dean's skin, trailing kisses over Dean’s neck as his fist worked Dean’s cock.  Dean had just enough presence of mind to take Cas in hand, clumsily attempting to mirror Cas’ movements until Cas chuckled, knocking Dean’s hand away and taking them both in his hand.  The sensation of both Cas’ fingers and cock sliding along his length pushed Dean over the edge, and he came hard over Cas’ fist, his back bowing off the tile as his body shakes in the aftershocks.  Cas follows shortly after, his body seizing up briefly before relaxing into Dean’s welcoming arms.

They catch their breath, sharing soft kisses as they wash up, climbing out of the shower just as the hot water started to run out.  Dean’s whole body is relaxed, his knees still a little wobbly as he climbs out of the shower.

“Starting to get that feeling we’re making up for lost time,” Dean chuckled on a breathy laugh as he dried off.

“If I were trying to make up for lost time we wouldn't be getting dressed right now,” Cas said offhandedly, and Dean choked on his laugh when he realized Cas was serious.

“As appealing as spending an entire day in bed sounds,” Dean reasoned, pulling on his clothes, “I really do want to give Baby a tune up.  But first,” Dean pulls his shirt over his head and pressed a kiss against Cas’ cheek.  “Breakfast and phone calls.”

“Phone calls?” Cas asked, tugging his own shirt over his head.  

“If it's alright with you, I want to tell Sam that we've figured this out.”  Dean winked at Cas.  “Plus, I haven't had a boyfriend before, I want to ask his advice.”  Cas’ laugh is beautiful, and he slips his arms around Dean’s waist from behind as Dean leads them out of the bedroom towards the hallway.

“Boyfriend, huh?  What have I said about labels?” he teased, and Dean rolled his eyes, pulling Cas’ arms off him as started down the stairs so they wouldn't trip and fall.

“Well, I can't go around telling everyone you're the love of my life, I've got a reputation to uphold.”  Dean made it to the bottom of the steps and turned to see Cas had frozen on the second step, his face completely awestruck.  Dean was confused until he realized what he'd just said out loud.  He'd never said love to Cas, not the exact word, though he'd hinted at it before.  “Say something,” Dean chuckled.  Cas slowly walked downstairs, his eyes never leaving Dean’s.

“You, you really feel that way?  About me?” Cas asked, his voice a thin whisper.  Dean walked up to him, taking his face gently in his hands and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“I love you, Cas,” he said, and it felt  _ so  _ good to finally say those words out loud, to not have to hide from them or be scared of them.  Cas shakes his head, reaching up to slide his fingers between Dean’s.  “You knew that, sweetheart,” Dean chuckled, “why do you seem so surprised?”

“I still have a hard time believing it,” Cas sighed.  “To think that someone so selfless as you could love someone as selfish as me-”

“Stop,” Dean insisted, wrapping his arms around Cas in a hug.  “Just stop, okay?  You questioning this isn't going to change it.”  Cas nuzzled into Dean’s chest, breathing deep.

“Sorry, I’m still…I’m still learning,” he muttered into Dean’s sternum.  Dean, in an attempt to lighten the mood, dug his fingers into Cas’ sides and armpits until Cas was squirming to get away, laughing in spite of himself.  “That's playing dirty!” Cas scolded from a safe distance.  Dean shrugged, strutting out to the kitchen to start their breakfast.  

Dean cooked them eggs and bacon, half listening as Cas made a few phone calls.  His first one was to Hannah, letting her know to have his things shipped out to Kansas after him.  It sounded like they argued about something briefly, but Cas ended the call on a smile, so Dean didn't think about it too much.  Cas’ next call was to Anna’s home, Dean recognized the names and Cas’ posture when he spoke.  It was kind of strange for Dean, not to be the one working for him, but a third party watching him work.  It was another reminder of how things had changed between them, what had shifted from employer/employee to friends and now to lovers.  

Cas finished his phone call and sat to eat, his brow slightly wrinkled in his ‘thinking face’ that Dean adored so much.

“What's on your mind?” Dean asked.  Cas blinked and looked up at Dean.

“Just the logistics of moving in here.  I didn't have the highest hopes when I arrived, so I didn't exactly plan this out in exact details.”  Cas shrugged as he took a bite of bacon.  “Until my stuff gets here I guess I could keep wearing your clothes.”  

“Dude, I don't really have that many clothes,” Dean laughed.  “And while that gorgeous ass of yours may keep my jeans up, my shirts are swallowing you.”  Cas looks down at himself.

“Maybe I should head over to Ellen’s now, get her to start fattening me up,” Cas smirked, his cheeks a light pink from Dean’s compliment.

“Pump the brakes there, Cas.  No need to do that just yet,” Dean said quickly...maybe too quickly.  Cas raised an eyebrow with a sinful smirk, sticking a forkful of eggs in his mouth and dragging it back between his lips slowly.  Dean wasn't up for round three just yet, but the image that brought to mind made him flush anyway.

“I suppose I might be tempted to keep up with my current level of fitness,” Cas said casually.  “I'd need to burn quite a few calories every day.”

“That so?” Dean hummed, turning his attention to his own breakfast and deciding to keep playing the game.  “What kind of workouts are you thinking?”  It was all Dean could do to keep a straight face as Cas pretends to ponder that question.

“Definitely some strength training, push ups and the sort, but lots of cardio.  Might even need your help with some of the exercises I have planned.”  Cas’ eyes flicked to Dean’s from under his lashes before dropping to his plate again.  Dean cleared his throat to help suppress his mirth.

“I don't know, Cas, I'm a little out of shape.  You're going to have to work double to help me catch up.”  Cas’ foot teased along Dean’s calf, the ridiculous innuendo laden conversation finally breaking as they both started to laugh.  “That was either the worst attempt at flirting ever or the start to a very cheesy porn,” Dean huffed, finishing his food and taking his plate to the sink.

“I wouldn't be opposed to either,” Cas giggled, smiling at Dean as he joined him.  Dean leaned in for a kiss, chasing the taste of the bacon on Cas’ lips.

“Later, sweetheart,” Dean promised, and Cas smirked, which was the only warning Dean got before Cas’ hand grabbed a hold of Dean’s ass, setting Dean’s cheeks aflame.

“Looking forward to it,” he purred, turning from Dean to walk out of the kitchen.  “Don't you have a phone call to make?”

Dean leaned on the counter to compose himself for a moment, making sure he was breathing evenly before he pulled his phone out to call his brother.

“This is kinda early in the morning for you, Dean,” Sam chuckled when he answered, sounding wide awake.

“Did you even sleep last night?” Dean asked.  

“No.  Partly the fault of my insomnia, and partly because Gabe has been acting weird since we dropped Charlie off yesterday.”  Dean rolled his eyes at the confirmation that Gabe was in on Charlie’s matchmaking surprise.

“I can explain that,” Dean chuckled.  “Though in Gabe’s defense it's also mostly Charlie's fault.”

“What did they do now?” Sam sighed, his calm acceptance of any shenanigans Gabe was involved in speaking volumes about Sam’s patience with his boyfriend.

“Do you have any belts smaller than this?” Cas called, walking back into the kitchen and holding one of Dean’s old leather belts.  Dean shook those images out of his head quickly, he was on the phone with his brother, after all.  Come to think of it, Cas probably did it on purpose, Dean’s pants seemed to fit him just fine.

“Sorry, Cas, that's it.  I could probably put another hole in it,” Dean answered.

“Holy shit,” Sam said over the phone.  Dean laughed, and Cas tilted his head in a silent question.

“Sam just figured out you're here,” Dean explained.  Cas’ face softened, walking closer to Dean who put the phone on speaker.

“Hello, Sam,” Cas said into the phone.

“Hey, Cas.  Guess you and Dean have talked through what's been making him all emo?”

“Emo?  I was not  _ emo, _ ” Dean scoffed.  

“Yes, I believe we've worked things out, as best as they can be,” Cas answered with a smile at Dean.

“Good, I'm happy for you guys,” Sam chuckled.  “I'm still going to kick Gabe’s ass for interfering,” he added.

“Please, there's no need to inflict bodily harm on my cousin,” Cas said, a small blush dusting his cheeks.  “I'm afraid I put the idea in Charlie's head, when I found out she was coming here.”  A fondness for Cas wrapped Dean up in a warm fuzzy feeling, and he knew he was probably making heart eyes, but he really didn't care.

“I'll just give him a hard time, then,” Sam said.  “I'm assuming you want to tell Ellen and Bobby?”

“And Jo!  Please don't tell her,” Dean added quickly.  He was going to get enough grief from her as it was, she'd be pissed if she didn't hear about this from Dean.

“And Jo, got it,” Sam agreed.  “Hey, Dean?”

“Yeah, Sammy?”

“I really am happy for you.”  Dean flushed at Cas’ shit eating grin, effectively ruining the emotional moment.

“Yeah, alright,” Dean grunted.  “Later, bitch.”

“Bye, jerk.”  Dean hung up, dropping his phone in his pocket before attacking Cas’ ticklish spots again, pinning the squirming and laughing author against the counter.

“No one laughs at my chick flick moments but me,” Dean scolded as Cas finally got a firm hold on Dean’s hands, planting a hard kiss against his lips.

“Okay, assbutt,” Cas punctuated the word with a nip against Dean’s lower lip.  

“I mean it, I don't do all that touchy feely crap,” Dean hummed, kissing Cas back gently.

“Got it,” Cas nodded, stealing one more kiss before Dean reluctantly released Cas from the counter.

“Alright, let's go check on my Baby,” Dean sighed, needing to get out of that kitchen before he just stood there kissing Cas all day.  

 

Baby didn't need a whole lot of work, most of the time Dean spent out there with Cas was simply going over the engine with him.  Cas didn't poke fun at Dean’s love for his car like everyone else, he didn't tease when Dean treated her with care and respect.  Cas was attentive, reverent, and maybe Dean Winchester  _ did  _ do chick flicks because the amount of love he was feeling for this man shouldn’t be possible.  He thought he'd cared about Cas before, but now that he was allowed to love him, to kiss him when he felt like it, to touch him and flirt, to allow himself to feel all of the emotions he'd denied for so long… It was like he'd unlocked a part of himself he hadn't even known existed before.  He kept waiting for the balloon to pop, for all the good that he was feeling to come crashing down, but it didn't.  

They talked about the move, and Dean didn't freak out or get anxious.  They talked about Anna finding a new home, and Cas didn't become withdrawn or closed off.  It was like nothing had changed, and yet everything had changed, and even after they'd finished with the car and taken (unfortunately separate) showers, Dean was still trying to wrap his head around it.

They met up with everyone at the Roadhouse after dinner, and it wasn't like Dean stood on a barstool and made an announcement, but when he and Cas walked in together, everyone immediately seemed to just  _ know _ .  No shouts of congratulations, no stern talking to’s, just knowing smiles when Dean and Cas brushed elbows or rested their hands on each other’s backs or shoulders.  Dean didn't even kiss him, though when Cas was talking to Ellen about wanting to make her and Bobby dinner, he kinda wanted to.  Cas understood just how much all these people meant to Dean, and just wanted to be included in Dean’s life beside them; not before them like he was more important, or after them like he was afraid of taking Dean away from them.  Cas was carving out a small place in Dean’s life without disrupting it, and it was  _ beautiful _ .

Dean swung by Cas’ hotel to drop him off, letting him grab his own suitcase and his car, and went back to his house to wait for him.  Dean was feeling antsy on the drive back, his mind going back over and over to their flirting from that morning.  The arousal he was too sated to muster then was coming back to him in full force, knowing he and Cas were about to spend the night together again.  

Dean knew exactly how he wanted to spend said night.

He only had a short time alone before Cas came back, so he quickly turned off all the lights aside from those leading to the stairs, and hurried up to his room.  He checked his supplies, having to search a bit for the lube and condoms after his seven month dry spell.  He grabbed one foil packet, sticking it and the bottle under his pillow, then made his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth.  By the time he'd pulled off his jeans and crawled in bed, the front door was opening.

He listened as Cas made his way upstairs, his steps heavier because of his bag and slower as he navigated the dark house.  Dean rolled his eyes when Cas stopped in the guest room to drop off his bag, his steps eventually continuing down the hallway.  Dean's heart was pounding with anticipation, already half hard without Cas even in the room.

“Dean?” Cas called as he reached Dean’s door.

“In bed,” Dean called back, and in the dimmed light from the hallway, Dean caught the flash of Cas’ teeth when he smiled.

“Isn't it a bit early for bed?” Cas asked softly.  Dean heard the double meaning in the sentence.

“I don't think so,” Dean said casually, a shudder running through him when Cas hummed deep in his chest.

“Well, in that case, I better join you,” Cas purred, and Dean watched in a trance as Cas slowly pulled Dean's clothes off his own body, stretching and flexing under Dean’s heated gaze.  Cas climbed into bed, slithering under the covers and running his fingers over Dean's chest.  “Silly boy, still wearing clothes,” Cas tsked, his fingers tugging at Dean's shirt.  Dean lifted himself off the bed as Cas pulled it off, lifting his hips when Cas immediately reached down to wiggle his boxers off as well.  Cas crawled over Dean, sitting on his thighs while his left hand propped him up above Dean, gazing down at him fondly.  Now that Dean was completely exposed, anxiety shivered down his spine.  He wasn't sure where it was coming from, Cas hadn't even done anything yet, but his body was tense, and his heart was racing in his chest.  

“Castiel,” he gasped, his voice breaking on the end of the name.

“What’s wrong?  What's got you so worried?” Cas asked, his right hand smoothing along Dean’s brow.  Dean blinked hard, surprised to feel pressure behind his eyes.

“I don't know,” Dean sighed, rubbing his fists into his eyes.  “ _ Fuck _ , I'm sorry, Cas-”

“Shh.”  Cas’ kiss was gentle, soft and comforting.  “Just take a breath, okay?”  Dean’s eyes slip closed as Cas’ fingers card through his hair, breathing through the lump in his throat as Cas continues to press soft, chaste kisses across his face, his closed eyes, his nose.  “What’s got you so worked up, beautiful?”  Cas asked once Dean’s breathing had evened out, propping himself up on his elbow next to Dean.

“I don't know,” Dean admitted, and truthfully he didn't.  “Today just, it didn't feel  _ real _ .  Being with you, talking about you living here, seeing you slide perfectly into my life like, like there was always an empty place for you…”

“It's overwhelming,” Cas finished for him. 

“I guess,” Dean huffed.  “I just, I want you so much and I keep waiting for, for this to all fall apart.”  Dean belatedly realizes his fingers are digging bruises into Cas’ back, desperately holding onto him.

“Now you know how I felt this morning,” Cas teased with a smile.  

“Guess I should take my own advice about overthinking this,” Dean said, smiling back shyly.  Cas sobered, fingers tracing the line of Dean’s jaw.  

“I can still see you, the way you were the night we met, when you first walked into that club,” Cas smiled.  “I figured you were just another pretty face, that you'd leave just as fast as all the others.  But you didn't run from me,” Cas’ fingers switch to playing connect the dots with the freckles on his cheeks, and Dean’s eyes flutter closed, enjoying the sensation.  “You stayed, and you tried to take care of me.  You wanted to be friends, and you wanted  _ me. _ ”  Cas’ voice cracks slightly, making Dean open his eyes.  “My father didn't care about me, my mother didn't stay for me, my sister doesn't know me.  But you… You  _ wanted  _ me.”  Dean releases his white knuckled grip on Cas’ back, his hands smoothing up over his sides, sliding up to his face as Dean pulls him in for a slow kiss.

“I couldn't help it,” Dean sighed against Cas’ lips.  “I wanted to stop it, I tried everything to get you out of my head.  I slept with someone and afterwards I… I felt like I had done something wrong.”  Cas kissed him, silencing the apology on his lips with a physical one of his own.

“We could keep going on about this like weepy soap opera stars all night,” Cas hummed with a giggle, “or we could just accept that, inexplicably, we love each other, and move on.”  Dean’s eyes snap open, and Cas’ face lights up with a smile when they meet his.  “I love you, Dean.  And I'm sorry I waited so long to tell you.”

Dean surged forward, kissing Cas desperately as the knot in his chest unwound.  Cas loved him, he  _ loved  _ him.  Dean’s fingers tangle in Cas’ hair, tilting his head to offer Dean a better angle to kiss him, and Cas hummed, a pleased rumble of sound.

“I love you,  _ god  _ I love you,” Dean rambled as Cas laid himself out over Dean’s body, Dean’s cock instantly reacting to their mutual nudity.  Cas’ lips slid down Dean’s neck, continuing a path down his torso, humming a laugh each time Dean’s muscles twitch and tense under his attentions.  Cas reaches the v of Dean’s hips and pauses, nose brushing the skin just below Dean’s naval.  His eyes travel back up Dean’s torso, a question in them when he meets Dean’s eyes and Dean nods quickly.  Cas grins, a predatory flash of teeth, and he slides Dean’s cock between his lips.  “ _ Fuck _ !”  Dean makes no attempt to stifle his shout, and Cas sets to work, pulling more obscene noises from Dean’s throat as he sucks and licks, bringing Dean close to the edge absurdly fast.  Dean fumbles for Cas’ chin, pulling him off with trembling fingers.

“A little sensitive?” Cas hummed, his voice rough.  Dean gasps in air and nods with an embarrassed smile.  He reaches up under the pillow and grabs the bottle of lube and condom, grinning when Cas’ eyes go wide.  He hands Cas the lube, setting the condom on his sternum for when it's needed, a blatant tease.  Cas lifts himself onto his knees, Dean’s thighs spreading to allow him space.  “Dean, you really want me to-?”

“Please, Cas,” Dean sighs, rolling his hips, his cock hard against his stomach.

“ _ Shit _ , how am I supposed to say no to that,” Cas laughed, and Dean grinned.

“I'm not above begging,” he teased, sliding his hands up under the pillow behind his head.  “Please?”  Cas groaned and got comfortable, lifting Dean’s feet to rest against his shoulders, spreading Dean open without losing the use of his hands.  Dean flushes in spite of himself, nibbling his lip nervously.  Even though this isn't their first time, it sort of feels like it.  At the first trickle of cool liquid against his opening Dean shuddered, and when Cas’ first finger slowly pushed inside, Dean’s head fell back, a keening sigh passing through his teeth.  Cas carefully twisted his hand around once Dean had relaxed, stretching the muscle with soothing swipes of his finger that soon had Dean’s body relaxing.  

Another slick finger joined the first, and all Dean felt was an ache for  _ more _ , his walls involuntarily clenching around Cas’ digits.  Cas’ fingers scissored, stretching his walls further, and on a upward swivel of his hand, the brushed Dean’s prostate.

_ “Fuck, _ Cas,” Dean grunted, his hips subconsciously working with Cas’ movements.  He needed more, this wasn't enough, he needed-

A third finger slid inside him and he moaned low and long.  The burn was so  _ good, _ and he could hardly hear the whispered praises from Cas over his own heavy breathing.  He was hard as granite, leaking over his own stomach, his body desperate with want.  He'd waited for seven months, he didn't want to wait any longer.

“Castiel, Cas  _ please _ ,” he whined, and Cas shushed him.

“Easy, my love, I've got you.”  

“Fucking tease,” Dean groaned, picking up the condom and gripping it between his teeth.  Before Cas could respond, Dean smirked around the wrapper, dropping his legs from Cas’ shoulders and flipping them over.  Cas groaned brokenly as Dean straddled his hips, taking Cas in hand and pumping him slowly.  

“Dean, what-”  Cas’ objection was cut off with a groan as Dean tore into the condom wrapper with his teeth, sliding it over Cas’ length and grabbing the lube from where Cas had left it.  He poured some of the liquid over Cas’ cock, then crawled up over him, reaching back to align them together.

“I've got you, Cas,” Dean breathed with a smirk, sinking down over Cas in one smooth slide.  Dean froze, savoring the stretch as his body adjusted, his breath coming in helpless pants.  Cas’ hands fall instinctively to his waist, and Dean takes that as his signal to move, his thighs straining as he raises himself up and lowers back down.  It's a little difficult, Dean’s not exactly a pro at sex with a man, and he's definitely never ridden a guy like this before.  But the burn is more intense at this angle, Dean’s moaning on every exhale, and Cas is cursing and trembling beneath him.  Dean figures  _ so what _ if his technique isn't all that graceful, it feels  _ fantastic _ .  Dean rolls his hips until the angle allows Cas to slide deeper, and the first time he brushes Dean’s prostate the electric spark makes his whole body shake.

Eventually Cas starts to work his hips with Dean, meeting him on his downward slide, until he's taking over completely while Dean kneels above him, hands bracing himself on Cas’ chest.  Cas’ hands trail over his skin, soft and reverent, his eyes locked on Dean’s face like he doesn't want to miss a second of seeing Dean like this.  

Dean’s body is thrumming, teetering right on the edge of bliss, and Dean can't take it anymore.

“Touch me,” he begs, and Cas’ hand stops it's exploration to take hold of Dean’s leaking cock, pumping in time with his thrusts.

“Come for me, Dean,” Cas pleads, and with a twist of his wrist Dean comes undone, his release splashing across Cas’ chest and stomach.  Cas rolls them gently, leaning over Dean as his hips work, his breath hot and damp against Dean’s neck.  The contact with his prostate elongates Dean’s orgasm high, not building to a higher peak, but not abating either.  Dean loosely wraps his arms around Cas’ neck and his legs around Cas’ back, his body too relaxed to hold on tighter.

“Love you,” he murmured, his words slurred with bliss.  “Love you, s’much, Cas.”  Cas grunts, his hips slamming home hard before he choked out a cry against Dean’s neck, his body tensing as he comes, then relaxing all at once, collapsing over Dean’s body and gasping raggedly.  

“You are,” Cas huffed between breaths, “so  _ fucking  _ amazing.”  Dean hummed his agreement, trailing off in a pained wince as Cas pulled out.  “Sorry,” Cas whispers, soothing him with touches and soft kisses as he lowered Dean’s sore legs from around his waist to the mattress.  Dean sighs happily as his muscles stretch out, watching through half closed eyes as Cas tosses the condom.  Cas grabs a few tissues from the box on Dean’s nightstand, giving Dean a cursory clean up and discarding the tissue.  Dean opens his arms and wiggles his fingers like a needy child until Cas is curling up tight against Dean’s chest, tugging the blanket up over top of them.  Dean tangles their legs together, wrapping his arms around Cas and burying his nose in his hair.  “I love you,” Cas breathed into Dean’s skin, and it was the last thing Dean heard as he drifted off to sleep.

  
  


Cas moved into Dean’s home quickly; turns out the only things he kept from his house in LA were his books and a couple pieces of furniture.  Dean arranged for Jesse’s help painting and installing bookcases in one of the spare rooms, turning it into a mini library with Cas’ extra large chaise lounge in the center of the room.  Much to Dean’s annoyance, Jesse refused Dean’s payment for the job after he met Cas, claiming that being introduced to the author was enough.  By the time Jesse and Dean had finished the room, Cas had set them and the other couple up on a regularly scheduled double date every other week.

Once Cas and his things were moved in, Dean settled back into his routine; working at the garage and taking special restoration requests for classic cars, having dinner with Ellen and Bobby on a fairly regular basis, and visiting with friends at the Roadhouse.  Cas slid right into Dean’s routine, helping pay bills so Dean could afford better parts for the cars he was working on, joining Dean at the Roadhouse, and on occasion cooking dinner for everyone.

Dean had to admit that Cas’ nonchalance about sex his whole life had ended up coming in handy.  After getting tested when Cas moved in, their sex life had taken off exponentially, and Dean was quite stunned to realize how little he actually knew about pleasing a male partner.  Cas, however, knew  _ exactly  _ what to do, and Dean was more than happy to sit back and let Cas teach him how do it.  Cas could be kinda bossy when he got lost in the moment, and it turned out Dean kinda had a kink for being bossed around.  Once he’d figured that out, Cas kept Dean on his toes by testing and pushing his ‘kink limits’ as it were.  

And Dean had the screaming orgasms to show for it.  

Cas’ last offhand suggestion about certain... _ undergarments _ … had Dean both a little freaked out and incredibly curious, though neither of them had acted on it as of yet.

 

After Dean’s big Fourth of July party at his place, Cas left for Washington to go help get Anna ready for her move, and Gabe decided to go with him.  Ever since his stab at playing Cupid, Gabriel had been mending bridges with Castiel, and from what Cas had told Dean, things were just about at 100% between them.  While their boyfriends were gone for a couple weeks, Sam and Dean spent some time together, going over Sam’s school courses and career options.  Turns out Dean’s baby brother wanted to be a lawyer, and had discussed it in depth with his advisor.  Even with his injury, Sam said his prospects were hopeful so long as he worked hard for it, and Dean promised to kick his ass if he ever found him slacking.  Though at the rate Sam was growing and filling out, he could definitely kick Dean’s ass right back.

When Cas and Anna arrived back in Kansas, Cas spent a couple days with her at her new home, making sure she adjusted well.  Dean had been living off of phone and Skype calls, and therefore phone and Skype sex, for three weeks and knowing Cas was within 30 miles of him and still out of reach was frustrating to say the least.  

The day Cas finally came home, Dean was practically buzzing with excess energy, because the last ‘talk’ they'd had (aka mindblowing phone sex, Cas had quite an active imagination) Cas once again brought up...a certain kind of undergarment.  One that Dean may or may not have snuck into the store and purchased while Cas was gone.  They were buried in the back of Dean’s sock drawer, but heavy on his mind as he paced in the living room waiting for Cas to come home.  The moment Cas pulled into the driveway Dean pounced on the door, swinging it open and bouncing down the driveway, dragging Cas into a bear hug.

“I missed you, too,” Cas sighed tiredly, and any thoughts Dean had of ripping Cas’ clothes off and having his way with him screeched to a halt at the weariness in Cas’ voice.  Dean pulled back, taking Cas’ hand and leading him into the house, closing the door behind him.

“Did everything go okay with Anna?” he asked worriedly.

“Yes, she's doing well, she's already grown quite fond of her new nurse.”  Cas toes off his shoes, walking into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water.

“So what is it that's got you so worried?” Dean asked.

“Nothing, I'm just tired is all,” Cas assured him, draining his water and walking up to Dean, pressing a kiss against his lips.  “It feels good to be home,” he admitted, and Dean wrapped him up in a hug, frowning slightly as Cas clung to his shirt, his face buried in Dean’s neck.  There was  _ something _ wrong, Dean knew all of Cas’ tells at this point. 

“Why don't I draw you up a bath, sweetheart, while you tell me about your trip.”  Cas nodded at Dean's suggestion and let himself be led upstairs.

“I spent the first week just talking to Anna about the move, making sure she understood what was happening.”  Dean leads Cas into the bathroom, turning on the water and checking the temperature as Cas continues talking.  “Making sure she knew she was going to be flying to a new home.  Gabe was a huge help, he just seemed to understand her way of thinking much faster than I could alone.  The doctors gave me some medication to help her sleep on the flight, and I was worried that when we landed she'd be disoriented.”  Dean has the tub half full, and turns to Cas, carefully stripping the burgundy button up shirt and khaki slacks off of him, Cas not struggling against Dean’s movements.  “Turns out I didn't need to worry at all.  Anna handled the whole thing better than I did, honestly.”  Dean watches Cas carefully as he finishes stripping on his own, and he doesn't see any pain or sadness in his eyes, just a lot of conflict.  Dean strips himself down to nothing, stepping in the tub with Cas.  “Dean, what-”

“Make some space,” Dean nudges Cas aside as he sits, and Cas sighs, the corner of his lips turning up in a half smile.

“Last time we tried this half the water wound up on the floor,” Cas pointed out, sinking down into a sitting position carefully.  Dean leaned around him to turn off the water, pulling Cas back against his chest.

“Last time we were attempting to have sex,” Dean countered.  “Right now we’re just going to sit and chat about what's making you so anxious.”  Cas flushed and turned his face away from Dean, and Dean pressed a kiss against the back of his neck.  “Come on, talk to me sweetheart.”  Dean’s hands find Cas’ shoulders, rubbing firmly as Cas’ muscles relax under his touch, Dean steadily working out the knots until Cas starts to speak.

“It's stupid,” Cas sighed.  “It should be an easy decision, but I keep overthinking it.”  

“Because you're doing that thing you do where you want to ‘handle it’ alone,” Dean sighed, continuing his manipulation of Cas’ muscles.  “I'm here so you don't have to do that.”  He presses kisses against Cas’ neck, working his way around to his ear, the bolt of his jaw, until finally Cas goes totally pliant in his arms.

“I was offered a movie deal for my books.”  Cas says it like it's something to be ashamed of, and Dean stops his massage to wrap his arms around Cas’ chest, pulling their bodies flush together.

“And why do you sound so upset about that?” Dean prodded gently, nose brushing the hair behind Cas’ ear.

“Because,” Cas swallowed, his hands finding Dean’s and grabbing them tightly, “because it's going to be crazy hard work, and I'll be commuting back and forth from here to LA, and it's so much money, and...”  Cas’ head falls back against Dean’s shoulder, his eyes shut tight, and Dean holds him a bit tighter.

“Cas, we can work with the schedule, lord knows I've done it before.  And while it's not exactly practical, if you have to fly out to LA every week we can deal with that, too.”  Dean presses a kiss to Cas’ temple.  “But that's not the issue is it?”  Cas shook his head.

“It's Anna’s story.  I don't know if I want to commercialize it any further, if I should make any more money off of something that doesn't really belong to me.”  Cas shifts in Dean’s arms, turning sideways to curl up against him, and Dean runs his fingers through Cas’ hair.

“I'm assuming the contract is still up for negotiation?” Dean asks.  Cas nods against his chest.  “So put in stipulations, lay down some rules.  If they use your story, you get final say in how it's made.  You get final say in casting, in merchandise.  Hell, put in a rule that says a percentage of profits goes to a charity for people like Anna.”  Dean rests his chin on the top of Cas’ head, Cas’ body starting relax as he realized he had options.

“You think I should do it?” Cas asked after a moment.

“Uh uh, I'm not going to tell you what to do,” Dean huffed a small laugh.  “All I'm saying is think it through.  And if you want to talk to me about anything, I'm here.”  Cas’ head tilted up, a small smile easing the tension out of his brow, and Dean kissed him.  It was slow, a languid re-acquaintance of each other's mouths, more reassuring than sexual.  Dean could have gone on kissing Cas like that forever, but when Cas pointed out that the bath was getting cold, Dean grudgingly released him, watching appreciatively as he stood, rivulets of water traveling the curve of his body.

“Stop objectifying me,” Cas sighed tiredly without even turning around, wrapping a towel around his waist.  Dean pouted, climbing out of the tub as well, pulling the stopper to let the water drain.

“But you're so gorgeous, and I'm only human,” Dean whined teasingly.  Cas rolled his eyes, but he smiled when he turned away and Dean would take that as a win.

They each dress in pajamas and head downstairs to the kitchen.  Dean makes them dinner, homemade macaroni and cheese with broccoli and chicken, one of his favorite comfort meals that he stole from Ellen.  Cas was quiet while they ate, and Dean let him be, knowing he needed to think.  

Dean was aware of how popular Cas’ books were, he'd seen news stories talking about how many copies he'd sold and the like, but he'd never considered Cas being offered a movie deal, and all the baggage that was going to come with it.  Dean wasn't interested in celebrity status, but if he stayed with Cas, there was a good chance their private little life wouldn't remain quite as private as he wanted.  But he’d seen first hand how happy Cas was when a fan talked to him about his books, and so Dean would handle it, for Cas’ sake.  

Dean pours them each a nightcap of whiskey and turns on a random movie, sitting on the couch with his legs propped up on the ottoman.  Cas curls up against his side, Dean’s arm around his shoulders, and they sip their drinks in comfortable silence.  

Dean’s mind wanders as he absently strokes Cas’ arm, not thinking about anything in particular, but as they always seem to do they drift to Cas, and to their time together.

“You know, we were leaving for your book tour about a year ago,” Dean points out, setting his and Cas’ empty glasses down on the side table.

“Huh, we were,” Cas hums thoughtfully.  “It was during that tour that my publicist mentioned the movies for the first time.  Said if the book did as good as planned I'd probably get a phone call or two.”  

“You never said anything,” Dean said, looking down at Cas in surprise.  

“Because I laughed it off,” Cas shrugged, looking up at Dean with a small smile.  “Guess he's getting the last laugh.”  Dean pressed a gentle kiss against Cas’ forehead.

“Whatever you choose, I'll be right here,” Dean promised.  Cas sat up, swinging his leg around and settling himself in Dean’s lap.

“I know,” Cas sighed.  “But is it wrong of me to want to keep this to myself?”

“Keep what?  You know you're the only one for me,” Dean chuckled.  Cas huffed a small laugh and wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck.

“Better be,” Cas scolded, his mood turning serious again.  “I meant this.  The quiet, the calm of just  _ us. _  Movies will complicate things.”  Dean smiled because Cas was reading his mind again.

“True,” Dean nodded, running his hands up Cas’ back soothingly.  “But since when have we been anything but complicated?”  Dean grins, winking roguishly and Cas laughs softly, leaning in and kissing Dean.  It was a gentle thing, the taste of the whiskey lingering on Cas’ tongue as he explores Dean’s mouth.  Cas pulls away, his tongue tracing his own bottom lip before tugging it between his teeth.

“I think, I mean, I want to ask Anna, but...I think I want to at least hear what they have to say,” Cas decided.

“Alright then,” Dean nodded in agreement.  “Want me to come with you?”  Cas went very still, eyes searching Dean’s face.

“You know, I think it's time.”  Cas climbed off of Dean’s lap, standing and stretching.  “I'll call and let Anna’s nurse know to expect an extra visitor.”  Cas held out his hand to help Dean up, and kept hold of it as he led them upstairs.

As opposed to the kinky sex Dean had originally planned, they make love long and slow that night, dragging it out till Cas was a panting wreck above him and Dean was practically weeping he felt so good.  Cas cleans them up then crawls back into bed, and Dean spoons behind Cas, tucking him in close and sighing happily.

Dean had meant going to LA to see the movie studio executives, when he'd offered to go with Cas, he hadn't been talking about meeting Anna.

But Cas was right, it was about time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want to split this chapter in two, but when I hit 10k, I didn't have a choice. Luckily, it gave me an opportunity to put some more stuff into the final chapter, so yeah. We're nearing the end of this story folks, I'll see you soon!


	13. 13. Death of a Bachelor- Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. The FINAL full chapter for this story.
> 
> Holy crap what a ride this has been. Thank you everyone that read this story, that commented and Kudos'd and loved it just as much as I loved writing it. I'm having a hard time letting this one go! 
> 
> I would not be opposed to doing a time stamp, but as it stands I'm not sure exactly what to do. You guys could always throw some ideas my way and see what happens?!
> 
> I have three stories in outline and draft mode, and obviously I'm still working on "To Be Human", so I won't be gone long!!

 

_ I'm cutting my mind off _ __  
_ Feels like my heart is going to burst _ __  
_ Alone at a table for two _ __  
_ And I just want to be served _ __  
_ And when you think of me _ __  
_ Am I the best you've ever had _ __  
_ Share one more drink with me _ __  
_ Smile even though you're sad _ __  
__  
_ I'm walking the long road _ __  
_ Watching the sky fall _ __  
_ The lace in your dress tingles my neck _ __  
_ How do I live _ __  
__  
_ [x2:] _ __  
_ The death of a bachelor, Oh _ __  
_ Letting the water fall _ __  
_ The death of a bachelor, Oh _ __  
_ Seems so fitting for _ __  
_ Happily ever after, Oo _ __  
_ How could I ask for more? _ __  
_ A lifetime of laughter _ __  
_ At the expense of the death of a bachelor _ _  
_ __ *~*~*

 

Looking back on it, Dean would say that the day he walked into Anna’s extended care home was the most nerve wracking of his life.  

It had taken a couple weeks to finally set up a meeting; one week Dean had received a rushed request for an old 57 Chevy that was due at a car show that weekend, and the second week had apparently not been a good one for Anna.  The movie executives didn't seem to care about waiting two more weeks for Cas’ decision, anyway, and it gave Cas more time to write up what he did and didn't want from the movies.  Cas had taken over Dean’s writing nook behind the stairs, lists and options stuck to the walls and his laptop set up at the desk.  Dean didn't mind; it’s not like he was the author.

The drive to the assisted living home took about an hour and a half, and Cas spent the entire drive holding Dean’s hand like he was a nervous child.  Dean couldn't bring himself to be offended, it wasn't like he could hide from Cas how tense he was anyway.  Anna’s place was upscale, well furnished and comfortable, and everyone who worked there had kind and patient smiles on their faces.  Dean kept a firm hold of Cas’ hand, and Cas raised a teasing eyebrow at Dean as they walked down the hall to Anna’s room, Cas chatting amicably with the nurse.  They made it to Anna’s room, the nurse walking in first to tell her they were there, before walking out and nodding at them with a smile.  Dean took a deep breath, finally releasing Cas’ hand as Cas led them into Anna’s room.  

“Hello, Anna.  I brought someone to see you,” Cas said gently, his voice soft and soothing.

“Castiel,” she said turning towards them with a smile.  Her bed was covered with sketches, and Dean recognized a lot of the imagery from Cas’ stories.  There's a record player in the corner, Styx playing as a quiet undertone, and Dean nods in approval.  Anna’s red hair was hanging loose around her pale face, and her eyes were bright, but distant, like she was seeing things that weren't really there.  

“Anna, remember Dean?  Remember I told you about him?” Cas asked.  She nodded, her head tilting to the side just like Cas’ did.

“Dean, yes.”  She stood and walked over to Dean, looking up into his face curiously, looking  _ through  _ him.  “The one who saved you.”  Cas flushed and Dean smiled.

“It's wonderful to meet you, Anna,” Dean said, hoping his tone was just as soft as Cas’.  She turned away from him and walked back to the bed, dropping down to sit and continue her drawing.  Cas shrugged at Dean and stepped up to the edge of her bed, watching her work for a minute before speaking.

“Anna, I wanted to ask you about your story,” he said, gently brushing his hand over the crown of her head.

“I liked the end,” she hummed, turning to smile brightly up at Cas.  “The demons lost, and you were victorious over their evil.”  Dean raised an eyebrow, and Cas shifted awkwardly, shrugging at him.  Cas had never told him he was the main character in Anna’s stories.  Everything about the books started to make a  _ lot  _ more sense.

“I like the ending, too,” Dean agreed, making Cas blush even darker.  Anna turned to him and nodded enthusiastically.

“Did you see his wings?  Weren't they wonderful?”  Dean simply nods, and Cas gently lays a hand on Anna’s shoulder to stop her slight bouncing on the bed.

“Anna, someone else really loves your story, and wants to make a movie about it.  What do you think about that?”  Her hand pauses on the paper, and she looks up at Dean again.

“You saved him,” she insisted.  “Castiel was in hell with the demons, and you cast them out and pulled him from their grasp.  Castiel Novak is saved.”  Dean flushed, trying not to laugh as Cas stares at his sister awkwardly.

“I think that goes both ways,” Dean said with a shrug and a small smile.  “He saved me, too.”  Anna nods like she's made a decision, turning her gaze back to Cas.

“Tell the story,” she insisted.  “Tell their story, so you can tell your story.”  Cas smiled at his sister, leaning in to kiss her forehead.

“I love you, baby girl,” Cas sighed softly.  She smiles at him one more time, and her eyes focus in on his face in recognition.  Dean’s heart nearly bursts at the happiness in Cas’ eyes.

“Thank you,” she says quietly, turning back to her sketch pad, her hand sliding gracefully across the paper.  She starts to murmur under her breath, but Dean can't quite make out the words.  Cas watches her for a minute before he turns to Dean, taking his hand as he pulls him out the door.  There's determination in Cas’ footsteps as they walk back to the Impala and Dean knows; Cas’ mind is made up.

_ After Death Do Us Part: The Series  _ was going to be made into a movie.

  
  


Castiel turned out to be a ruthless negotiator, and Dean was fiercely proud of him.  Every time the movie studio sent him a contract, Cas would go over it point by point with his lawyer, then again with Sam because somehow that kid already knew a whole load of legal crap, and would ask questions that Cas’ seasoned lawyer wouldn't think of.  Everything about the movies was laid out in those contracts, down to the compensation for the production crew; Dean also had to give credit to the movie studio, they kept coming back to the table in spite of Cas making it difficult for them.  In the end it took three months of back and forth before Cas was finally happy with the contract.  He flew out to LA to meet with the executives and sign it in person, staying a couple days to take care of some business with his publisher.  Dean hadn’t offered to go with him, he knew this was something Cas needed to do on his own, and Dean hadn't been lying when he'd said he had no desire to return to LA.

Cas’ absence gave Dean an excuse to spend some time on the house itself, preparing for the holidays coming up.  Dean was hosting Thanksgiving at his house this year, and organizing enough food and seating for the huge guest list he had planned was proving to be a welcome challenge.  Jesse and Cesar were coming, along with Ellen, Bobby, Jo, Sam, Gabe and Gabe’s mother, Hester.  Cas was going to give Charlie and Benny their invitations while he was in California, assuming they’ll bring Dot and Andrea as their plus ones, that brought Dean’s total up to 14 people Dean was going to have to feed.  Ellen was helping with the cooking, at least, though Dean knew it was so she'd have an excuse to use his kitchen.  It was going to be crowded and hectic, but his and Cas’ entire family would be there, and it was going to be worth it.

 

By the day Cas flew back into town, four days before Thanksgiving, Dean had already cleaned the entire house: vacuumed, swept, dusted, and his laundry was the last thing on the list.  Dean sat cross legged on the bed, staring at the clock as he matched socks, waiting impatiently for Cas to come home.  His entire life had been spent being the “strong” older brother, the stoic one that took care of everyone, and Cas had managed to reduce him to a needy boyfriend that had to talk to him every day he was out of town because he  _ missed _ him.  Dean would do absolutely anything Cas would ask, and even though logically he knew this was the “honeymoon” stage of their relationship, he had a gut feeling that wasn't going to change, in one year or in thirty.  

With a smile, Dean gathered up his socks and walked to his dresser, siding open the drawer before dumping them in.  A glimpse of blue catches his eyes, and his fingers slowly take hold of the brightly colored fabric, pulling it out of the drawer as his heartbeat picked up.

Dean had just spoken to Cas when he was boarding his plane, he knew he was in a good mood, unlike the last time he'd returned from a long trip.  It would be a celebration of sorts, a way to congratulate him on the movie.

And yes, Dean was damned curious.   _ Speaking of doing  _ anything  _ for him. _

He stood still for a solid five minutes, debating with himself about wearing them or not before taking a deep breath and dropping his pants and boxers.  Slowly, his fingers trembling with both nerves and anticipation, he slipped one leg and then the other into the garment in question, sliding them up his thighs slowly.  The sheer fabric was softer than he thought it would be, and once they were up it only took a bit of adjustment to settle his half hardness comfortably into place.  Dean was breathing like he had just run a marathon, and he slowly walked over to the mirror, the unfamiliar fabric creating an interesting friction against his skin as he walked.  When he caught sight of himself he couldn't help but grin.

Dean Winchester was wearing blue satin panties, and  _ goddamn _ he looked pretty good in them.  

He turned to the side to get a look at how the elastic accented the curve of his ass, and shivered when he started to imagine what Cas was going to do when he saw Dean wearing these.

With an almost giddy bounce to his step, he walked back over to his pants, sliding them on and putting his boxers in the now empty hamper.

The hour wait for Cas to get home was pure torture; Dean’s cock had perked up in anticipation, and every movement dragged denim against satin, the unusual friction driving him crazy.  The sound of Cas’ car pulling into the driveway set Dean’s skin tingling, and he jumped off the couch to stand just inside the front door, beaming at Cas when he finally stepped inside.

“Well hello, sexy,” Cas smirked, leaving his suitcase at the door and kicking off his shoes before waking up and jumping into Dean’s arms.  Dean caught him easily, Cas’ legs wrapping around Dean’s waist and his arms around Dean’s neck.  Dean carried Cas over to the wall, pressing him up against it and kissing him roughly, their tongues fighting for dominance before Dean finally relented, Cas tilting his head back by his hair as he claimed Dean’s mouth.  The friction between their groins where Dean had Cas pinned to the wall was magnified by what Dean knew was underneath his pants, and when Cas squeezed his thighs to pull them closer Dean whimpered against Cas’ lips.  “Someone’s eager,” Cas teased when he pulled back, nipping at Dean’s jaw playfully.

“Only because I have a surprise for you,” Dean said on a quick exhale.  Cas’ fingers stilled on Dean’s neck and he looked down at him curiously.

“A surprise, huh?” he hummed, a flash of something dangerous in his eyes.  “Will I like it?” 

“I hope so,” Dean smiled nervously.  “I, uh, I can't show you until you get down, though.”  Cas pouted, but unwrapped his legs and slowly slid down Dean’s body to stand in front of him.

“Well?” Cas asked, raising his eyebrow.  Now Dean was starting to get nervous, acutely aware of every movement of his hips.

“You, uh, you had mentioned this before, and it kinda got me curious,” Dean started by way of explanation.  He felt his cheeks flush as Cas just continued to watch him expectantly.  “And now, come to think of it, I really hope you were serious because if not this is  _ really _ fucking embarrassing-”

“What is it?” Cas interrupted with fake impatience, his hands finding their way down Dean’s back to the curve just above Dean’s ass.  Dean swallowed a groan and took one of Cas’ hands, sliding it down below the waistband of his pants slowly.  

Judging by how wide Cas’ eyes got and how fast the teasing smile was wiped off his face, Cas  _ really _ liked his surprise.  Dean actually saw Cas’ pupils dilate, his throat working as he swallowed hard.

“Congratulations on the movie deal,” Dean breathed.  Cas’ fingers slid a little lower, exploring along the edge of the panties, trailing along the line of the elastic where it pulled tight across his hip.  Cas’ eyes remained locked on Dean’s face instead of dropping to see what his hands were doing, letting them travel their well practiced path over Dean’s body.

“You...you bought these?” he breathed.  Dean nodded and Cas groaned.  “ _ Fuck _ , Dean you're- you're-” 

“Wearing panties?” Dean offered.  Cas growled and attacked Dean’s mouth with bruising pressure, pushing him up the stairs, his hands groping and grabbing at his ass along the way.  By the time they made it to the bedroom neither of them were wearing a shirt, but when Dean went to remove his pants, Cas grabbed his hands to stop him.

“Wait,” he gasped, and Dean stilled, watching Cas’ fingers trail up his arms to his bare shoulders.  “Just...want to savor this a bit,” Cas explained breathily.  Dean smiled, leaning in to kiss Cas slowly as he raised his hands to slide them over Cas’ chest.  

“Anything you want,” Dean promised quietly.  His fingers paused on their journey to tease Cas’ nipples, which earned him a punched out groan and an aborted thrust from Cas’ hips.  

If Cas wanted to draw this out, Dean would happily oblige.

He let his hands trail further down, sliding just the tips of his fingers into the waistband of Cas’ pants and tugging their hips flush together.  A broken  _ fuck _ escaped Cas on his next exhale, and Dean sighed when their twin erections made contact.  Cas’ hands undid Dean’s belt, tracing the tips of his fingers just under the the waistband of his panties, making Dean shudder as goosebumps spread down his arms.  Cas’ fingers slide down further, his touch marking a path around his hips to his satin covered ass, giving it one hard squeeze before pulling away and shoving Dean gently.

Dean fell backwards to sit on the bed, and Cas stepped forward, standing over him at his full height with his shoulders squared, looking absolutely dangerous.  Cas slid his hand around to the back of Dean’s neck and gripped it tightly as Dean turned his attention to Cas’ belt, undoing it and his button, pulling the zipper down slowly.  Dean’s eyes darted up briefly as he tugged downward, the denim bunching around Cas’ ankles as his pants fell to the floor.  Cas’ dark smirk didn't quite hide the fondness in his eyes, his thumb tracing a gentle circle against the skin of Dean's neck.   Dean winked at him before dropping his gaze, focusing on the tented boxer briefs in front of him.  His eyes slid closed as he leaned forward and brushed his nose and lips along the cotton covering Cas’ length, moaning softly when he felt the hardness twitch in response.  Cas’ musky scent was intoxicating and familiar, as familiar as the fingers trailing up into his hair, tugging insistently.

“Use your tongue,” Cas growled darkly.  Dean didn't hesitate, he pulled Cas’ boxer briefs down and out of the way, lightly licking his way up the steely flesh when it came exposed, pressing at the tip with the flat of his tongue before licking a wide, wet strip back down to the base.  His hands gripped Cas’ thighs tightly, and he reveled in the feel of the muscles twitching as he repeated the licking pattern a couple more times.

Cas didn't speak, but a soft grunt and the gentle pressure of fingers on the back of his head was all the direction Dean needed, the two of them familiar with each other’s tells.  He slipped Cas into his mouth, bobbing a few times to get in a rhythm, tongue tracing patterns on the underside of his cock.  Relaxing his jaw, he takes Cas deeper, and Cas lets out a breathy moan, fingers tangling in Dean’s hair a bit tighter.  Dean hummed around Cas, making him reflexively buck forward into Dean’s mouth.

“ _ Shit _ ,” Cas gasped.  Dean let out a little whimper, Cas’ enjoyment making him hot all over.  Dean wanted to test Cas’ control even further, stilling the slide of his lips, which encouraged Cas to start to rock his hips in small thrusts to keep up the friction.  Cas has just found a rhythm when Dean ever so slightly grazes Cas’ cock with his teeth, Cas’ hips surging forward, hitting the back of Dean’s throat before pulling away.  The fingers in Dean’s hair pull his head back sharply as Cas pants heavily, and Dean smiles up at him as he catches his breath.  Cas relaxed his grip on Dean’s hair, brushing over Dean’s jaw before he stepped back.

“Up on the pillows,” Cas purred.  Dean nodded, scooting back along the bed, Cas’ eyes following him hungrily and sending a new wave of goosebumps skittering across Dean’s skin.  His pants had started to fall off as he moved up the mattress, sliding on the soft fabric underneath them, and a thin line of blue was peeking out from under the denim.

“You coming?” Dean asked, smiling at Cas as Cas comes crawling towards him, his lips twisted in a dark smirk.  Cas hovered over Dean, arms and knees on either side of his hips and legs, capturing his lips again.  Dean’s hips thrust upwards into nothing, seeking friction Cas was too far away to give.  Cas’ lips trailed down Dean’s throat to his collarbone, and Dean fingers scrambled for purchase against Cas’ back, his hips still twitching insistently against their painfully tight denim prison.

“You are so amazing, Dean,” Cas’ voice purred darkly, lips teasing a nipple, sucking the nub until it hardened painfully.  Dean’s body twitched helplessly as he moaned.  “Can’t wait to see what you have hiding underneath these pants.”  Cas moved his lips to the other nipple, biting at it playfully.

“Cas,  _ fuck _ ,” Dean gasped, and Cas answered with a gentle bite and a thoughtful hum.

“Hmm, I suppose I could.  But how to do it?”  Cas grabbed hold of Dean’s hands, lifting them up above his head and dragging his nails teasingly down the skin of his inner arms.  “Should I bend you over, take you fast and hard?  I’m sure the panties would hug your ass so prettily.”  Dean whimpered as Cas sucked a bruise over his sternum.  “Maybe like this, you on your back with your legs around my waist,” Cas punctuated his words with a gentle nip at his skin before he sat back, resting on Dean’s lower thighs, his fingers managing to undo Dean’s button and fly on his jeans without brushing the hardness underneath.  “Oh, what to do with you?” Cas sighed.  The denim was still covering most of Dean’s panties, and he wasn't sure which of them this slow pace was teasing more. 

“Castiel,  _ please, _ ” Dean begged, his shame long forgotten.  Cas moved suddenly, breaking all contact with Dean to stand at the foot of the bed.  After a brief anticipatory pause, he takes hold of Dean's pants and tugged them off in one go.  All the air leaves Cas’ lungs in a sudden exhale that ends on a moan.

Dean is lying in bed, arms above his head in nothing but blue satin panties that barely contain his aching cock, fighting the instinct to cover himself.  He’d probably be freaking out more if Cas wasn’t staring at him like he wanted to literally eat him alive, his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide.  Cas steps up to the side of the bed, looking down at Dean with dark eyes.

“So beautiful,” he mumbles.  Dean bites at his lip, smiling shyly up at Cas.

“You like your present?”  The words are hardly out of his mouth before Cas’ finger trails up his satin covered cock, cutting off coherent thought as Dean’s breath comes in a keening sigh.  

“I like it very much.”  Cas teases Dean with a few more passes of his fingertips before breaking contact again.  “Touch yourself,” Cas demanded, and the thrill that sent to Dean’s groin overrode any embarrassment he might have felt.  Dean let his eyes fall closed and slid his hand under the panties to take hold of himself.  He gathered the precome that hadn't been absorbed by the panties on his palm, his hips moving up into his fist as he started a slow rhythm.  Dean could feel the heat from Cas’ gaze, and he bit his lower lip, arching his back to put on a show for him, grinning when he heard Cas’ breath catch in his throat.

Dean felt the bed shift, opening his eyes to see Cas crawling back over him, attacking spots all over his skin with teeth and tongue.  He pulled Dean’s hand out of the way and forcibly rolled him by his hips onto his stomach, effectively pinning Dean to the bed.  Cas laid out over Dean’s back, rutting against him as he sucked a bruise into the top of his spine, the hard line of his cock sliding easily along the fabric.  Dean’s hips humped the mattress, a helpless whine bubbling up from his throat when Cas slams into him hard to make him stop.  Cas’ hand trails over the fabric pulled taut over Dean’s ass, his fingers catching on the elastic and snapping it playfully.

“So fucking gorgeous,” Cas growled, rutting hard into Dean again, pushing him further into the bed.

“Cas,” Dean gasped, a wordless plea in his voice.  

“Okay, beautiful.”  Cas sat up, grabbing lube from the bedstand, gently smacking Dean’s ass with an appreciative sigh.  “On your knees,” Cas demanded sharply, and Dean complied, pulling his knees up underneath him but leaving his chest pressed to the fabric, his whole body shaking in anticipation.

Cas’ pulled the panties down reluctantly, slowly removing them completely and tossing them in front of Dean on the bed.  Two warm hands pull Dean’s flesh apart, then a trickle of cool liquid runs over Dean’s entrance, followed by a slick finger.  With their active sex life, the digit slides in easily, Cas’ thumb sliding lower to put subtle pressure on his perineum.

“I'm going to get you ready,” Cas leaned forward to moan into the skin of Dean’s back.  “Open you up nice and easy, till you're begging for me.”  Cas always enjoyed talking dirty, and  _ holy hell _ there was something nearly evil about the husky desire in his voice today.  Dean let out a groan as the single digit inside him started to stretch him.  “Only  _ then _ am I going to fuck you.  I'll let you feel every drag, every movement.”  A second finger joined the first, and Dean felt the pressure now, the subtle stretch intensifying the sensations shooting through his nerves.  “You’ll take every bit of my cock, and you're going to feel so good.”  Cas’ fingers start scissoring Dean open, and little broken off moans start to escape him.

“Ngh, fuck,  _ Cas,”  _ Dean gasped, a plea in his voice.  Cas slipped a third finger inside him and bent his fingers just right, setting fireworks off all through Dean’s body.  Cas shifted his stance, and Dean glanced over his shoulder to watch Cas pop the cap on the lube, pouring a generous amount over his erection.  He looked up and noticed Dean watching, smirking and jacking himself a few times for Dean’s benefit.  

Dean had to look away before he came at the sight of that alone.

Cas shifted again, and after a moment of anticipation, he pushed into Dean on a long moan. 

Cas started off slow, just like he'd promised, every single movement precise and drawn out, sliding out so only the tip was inside Dean, then sliding back in one smooth thrust.  As Cas’ speed increased, it was all Dean could do to just ride it out, to let Cas take his pleasure, and to give it.

A well placed, hard thrust made Dean’s knees give out, and he was shoved forward to rest on his stomach.  It didn't seem to deter Cas, he simply adjusted his angle, his hands bracing himself above Dean, and kept up his rhythm, unerringly hitting Dean’s prostate on each slide.  Dean’s fists gripped the sheets white knuckled, and Cas shifted his weight onto his left hand, his right sliding into Dean’s hair to tug sharply.

Dean came suddenly with a sharp cry, his release dampening the sheets below him, and Cas groaned, getting the ripples of Dean’s orgasm as Dean’s body shook below him.  Cas dropped down to press his chest against Dean’s back.

“I love you,” Dean gasped, and he felt Cas’ seize up behind him, his release coming on a deep growl.

“I love you,” Cas gasped, lips kissing his back tenderly, a sharp contrast to the rough passion they'd just experienced.  Their skin stuck together, covered in sweat and come, but they curled up in each other's arms anyway, Dean falling asleep almost immediately, lulled by the warmth and heartbeat of the man behind him.

  
  


Thanksgiving arrived.  Dean and Ellen had spent all of Wednesday in the kitchen, prepping as much of the food as possible ahead of time since they were feeding so many people.  Guests start to arrive early Thursday morning, and Dean welcomes the chaos, friends and family talking and laughing with the Macy’s parade as background noise.  While the kitchen is supposed to be off limits to everyone but him and Ellen, Cas steals inside periodically throughout the day.  Mostly it's to get more beer for the guests, but he also pauses to press an encouraging kiss to both Ellen’s and Dean’s foreheads as they work.  Ellen observed that Cas could “charm the whiskers off a cat”, and in the interest of working well together, Dean refrained from teasing her about her blush.

All told they ended up with two 10 pound turkeys, a ham, 5 pounds of mashed potatoes, homemade cranberry sauce, green beans, broccoli, stuffing, gravy, three dozen yeast rolls, two apple pies, and one pecan pie.  Not to mention two cases of beer, three bottles of wine, and two bottles of Dean’s good whiskey.  

And all of it was basically demolished.

Food had been brought out fairly close to lunchtime, and people served themselves in a buffet style.  Dean had never been one for traditional thanksgivings, especially considering the past five years had been rough for him and Sam.  This was how he preferred things, relaxed and happy, everyone scattered around the living room simply enjoying each other’s company.  Dean was absolutely stuffed with food, sitting back on the couch with Cas’ head pillowed on his shoulder, watching Sam and Gabe argue over which version of “A Christmas Carol” was the best from the floor of the living room.  Gabe had been good for Sam; since they had started dating the symptoms of Sam’s injury had lessened dramatically, and Sam was just  _ happier _ .  

“What time is it?” Cas asked quietly, interrupting Dean’s musings.  Dean glanced over his shoulder to where he could see the clock in the kitchen.

“It's 7:30.”  He pressed his cheek against the top of Cas’ head, squeezing his shoulder.  “Are you waiting for something?” he asked quietly.  Cas stood, gathering up empty bottles and cups, and Dean took the hint, grabbing some dishes himself before following Cas into the kitchen.

“It's a who,” Cas sighed once they were out of earshot.  

“Okay,” Dean said cautiously.  “I thought Hannah had a family thing, is she coming last minute?”  Cas shook his head.

“No it was someone else, and I guess they're not-”  Cas stopped short as the doorbell went off.  Dean raised an eyebrow, but Cas didn't say anything else, he just turned and hurried to the door, Dean quick on his heels.

The person Dean saw when the door opened was  _ not _ who he was expecting.

“Hey, Clarence, nice place.”

“Meg?!” Dean blurted.  The petite brunette was wearing black jeans with a black leather jacket and a crimson shirt, grinning at Cas brightly like her showing up wasn't the weirdest thing ever.

“I was beginning to think you weren't going to make it.”

“Not gonna lie I thought about skipping,” she said with a shrug.  “But here I am.”  Dean opened his mouth to say something but Cas placed a placating hand on Dean’s chest.

“When you left LA, Meg went into rehab,” Cas explained quietly, watching Dean’s reaction closely.  “I was her sponsor in the program, and I told her when she left the rehab facility, if she could stay clean for a year, I'd invite her to dinner.” 

“Yep, one year clean and sober,” she announced proudly.  Dean took a good look at her; the circles under her eyes were gone, her skin wasn't as pale, and overall she seemed healthier, even her clothes were in better condition.  “Look, Dean, what happened with the gun...it was a wake up call for me,” she sighed, uncharacteristically sincere.  “I'm sorry, I really am.”  Dean glanced at Cas, and of course the fucker was using his best puppy eyes on him.  Dean hadn't forgotten how Meg had been just as angry and freaked out as everyone else the night Balt went crazy, that she hadn't known what Balt was planning either.  With his stomach too full of good food to get too worked up, he sighed, waving her inside.

“Alright.  If you've put in that kind of work, I guess I'm willing to give you a chance.”  

“You've really done some work on him after all, Cas,” she grinned, and Cas bent to give her a tight hug.  Dean put on a show of rolling his eyes, but he was grateful that she didn't crawl all over him like she used to, respecting Cas’ personal space for Dean’s benefit.  

Cas made introductions to the group, and while Charlie’s eyebrows disappeared into her hairline, she didn't say anything about their last minute guest.  Dean pulled Charlie aside to explain while Ellen managed to round up a plate of food for Meg.  Sam caught Dean’s eye, knowing something was going on but also knowing his brother well enough not to say anything.  Dean would explain it to Sam later, right now the evening was going too well to risk ruining it.  Meg was shy and nervous at first, aware of the baggage between her and her hosts, but eventually she opened up and started to interact with everyone.  Dean beamed with pride; his family had a way of making everyone feel at home, no matter who they were, and he wouldn't trade it for the world.

It hit Dean then, watching Cas smile at him as Meg talked with Jo.  

Dean’s old life, raising his brother when his father couldn’t, hospital bills and Sam’s tough recovery.  And Dean’s new life, Charlie and Benny, Meg attempting to out sass Jo, and  _ Cas. _

Castiel, one of the most gorgeous men Dean had ever met, so incredibly smart and talented, capable of caring so much yet so afraid to let himself.  The man who managed to make Dean fall so hard and so fast, who made Dean realize how much better his life could be if he just let someone like Cas into it.  Someone who made Dean realize that he could have more than one night stands or unattached flings, he could have trust and stability and true companionship.

Dean knew that he was never going to love like this again.

The gravity of that realization wasn’t lost on Dean, but this wasn’t the moment to act on it.  He filed it away for later, kissing Cas’ inquisitively wrinkled forehead when he noticed something was up.

Those who were sober enough drove home around 9, those who weren't were handed air mattresses and found space in the spare bedrooms, Meg making herself a bed on the couch.  Once all their guests were taken care of, Dean and Cas finally shut themselves in their own bedroom, and Dean wasted no time stripping down to his boxers, collapsing on the bed to stretch out with a satisfied groan.

“I'd say Thanksgiving was a success,” he sighed.  Cas grinned at him from across the room, picking up his discarded clothes and tossing them in the hamper before stripping to his boxer briefs and dropping his own clothes on top of Dean’s.

“I suppose it was.  I must remember to send my congratulations to Ellen for all her hard work.”

“Haha, very funny,” Dean grunted.  Cas crawled into bed, curling up against Dean’s side and gently rubbing his food bloated stomach.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I love you,” Cas sighed against the skin of Dean’s chest.

“Aw, love you too,” Dean hummed, wrapping his arm tighter around Cas’ shoulder and squeezing.  

“Do you think…” Cas paused to take a breath, “do you think that this is going to change once the movie comes out?” 

“That what's going to change?”

“This, the casual dinners with friends, our quiet time together…”

“I don’t know,” Dean admitted.  “I know that, whatever happens, you’ll handle it like you always do.”

“With mild panic and suppressed anxiety?” Cas asked, his voice muffled into Dean’s chest.  

“No,” Dean huffed, gently pinching Cas’ side and making him jump, “with grace and skill.”  

“Hmm, same thing, different points of view,” Cas sighed.  He sat up, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to Dean’s upper lip.  “I guess if you’re there to keep me on track I can’t screw this up too bad.”

“In that case I better stick around for a while,” Dean teased, reaching up and running his fingers through Cas’ hair.  

“How long is a while?” Cas asked, turning his head into Dean’s touch before bending to kiss Dean’s cheek.

“How does forever sound?” Dean breathed.  Cas leaned back slowly, eyes searching Dean’s face.

“I don’t know about that, forever’s a long time,” Cas said quietly.  Dean could read every one of Cas’ insecurities in that sentence, how scared he was of needing someone that badly, how worried he was that someday Dean would leave him, too.  Dean smiled gently as he traced his fingers over Cas’ clenched jaw.

“I don’t mind investing the time, so long as I'm with you.  If you'll have me?”  Dean marveled at how calm and candid his voice was, considering he was basically asking Cas to marry him.  But it was the truth, Dean knew it with 100% certainty, and he wasn't afraid of it.  Cas flushed and buried his face in Dean’s neck.

“Ugh, why are you so perfect?” Cas groaned into his shoulder.  

“I tend to disagree about me being perfect,” Dean chuckled.  “And look, I'm not in a huge hurry, okay?  If you want to wait to answer until after this whole movie situation is done, we can do that.  I just wanted to tell you.”  Cas is still buried in his shoulder, and Dean thinks he might feel tears dampening his skin, so he wraps his arms tightly around Cas and just holds him.  He doesn't need an answer, he doesn't even need Cas to marry him.  All Dean wanted was to have Cas here, with him, no matter what they were on paper.

“I never expected to feel this way, ever,” Cas grumbled, his head still tucked against Dean’s skin.  “I didn't think I was capable.  Course you had to show up and ruin that.”

“Fuck expectations,” Dean hummed, remembering their first conversation in Benny’s SUV.  Cas laughed, pressing wet kisses into Dean’s skin until they both fell asleep.

  
  


**_Three years later_ **

“ _...at the world premier of the movie adaptation.  Based on the award winning novels,   _ After Death,  _ the first in a series of four movies has already been hailed by critics as a strong and powerful start…” _

“Hey, they're talking about you on TV again!” Dean called across the hotel room he and Cas were staying in.  

“They're  _ always  _ talking about me on TV, lately,” Cas grumbled.  Cas had splurged and gotten them the penthouse suite at the Westin in Downtown LA, where they'd wound up for the premier of Cas’ film that had been three years in the making.  They lived so simply most of the time, in spite of Cas’ royalty checks, the luxury was a nice treat.  “I can't wait until all these premiers are done so I can just stay home with you for a while,” Cas huffed tiredly.  Dean knew Cas hadn't gotten much sleep lately, with interviews and morning shows and press junkets running back to back.  In fact, over the last two months, he and Dean had hardly spent a full week together that wasn't broken up in the middle by Cas taking a trip somewhere.  Thankfully once this premier was done, Cas only had one more week of interviews scheduled.   Then they were taking the entire month of September off for Cas’ birthday.  Dean had insisted on the entire month, and he had quite a few ideas in mind of what he was going to do with that time.

“That's the price of fame,” Dean teased him.  Cas came around the corner, dressed in a gorgeous tux, hair combed to the side and smelling like Dean’s favorite cologne.  Dean smirked, walking up and kissing him briefly.  “Look at you, all red carpet ready,” Dean cooed teasingly, straightening Cas’ tie fondly.  Cas rolled his eyes, adjusting his sleeve cuffs uncomfortably, his face almost expressionless.  Dean could tell he was nervous about tonight, but Cas had become a veritable pro at handling himself in front of a camera, as well as any actor.

“You know I could just leave you here,” Cas scoffed, and Dean rolled his eyes, kissing him again, gently, full of comfort.  Cas pulls away quickly, pacing across the hotel room as he tugged at and fidgeted with his tux.

It wasn't the cameras or the fans making him nervous tonight, Dean knew.  Cas was nervous because this was the first time Dean would be out there  _ with _ him.

Over the past few years, Dean may have traveled with Cas to visit the movie set, to give interviews, but he'd stayed firmly behind the camera, and they'd kept their PDA to relatively nothing.  It wasn't that they were ashamed or closeted, Cas was very open in interviews about his fluid sexuality, it was just something they'd decided to keep private, a little bit of their life they could keep to themselves.  Tonight, they'd be walking down that red carpet together as a couple, for the first time in the public eye.  Dean had enjoyed his anonymity, but he wanted to be there to support Cas for this final step.  They lived so far out in the country no one was going to be showing up at his door for autographs anytime soon anyway, so it seemed silly to worry about it any longer.

“... _ beloved author Castiel Novak, an outspoken champion for LGBT rights and equality, will be arriving on the red carpet shortly…” _

“Not if I can help it,” Dean said turning off the TV and walking over to Cas, tugging him close and kissing him again.  Cas indulged him for a moment before he gently pushed him away.

“I’m already late, let's not give them more to talk about,” he sighed.  Dean grinned, grabbing his phone off the charger and tucking it in his pocket as Cas checked himself in the mirror one last time. 

“Let's get you to the ball before you turn into a pumpkin, shall we,” Dean called in a singsong voice.  Cas made a show of frowning as he walked to the door Dean was holding open like a dweeb.

Benny was waiting in the lobby, and wolf whistled when Dean and Cas walked into view.  The noise drew the attention of a couple teenage girls off to the side of the lobby, and Dean smiled at them, nudging Cas with an elbow when they started to titter excitedly.

“Look at you boys, all dressed up,” Benny chuckles.  Dean clapped him on the shoulder fondly. 

“You trimmed your beard!  That's class right there!” Dean taunted.  Benny ran a hand over his tidy facial hair, the glint of his wedding band catching Dean’s eye.  “You been taking care of Andrea?”

“You noticed how much fatter I'm getting?!” Benny chuckled.  “Woman won't stop feeding me.”  The girls approached their group, and Cas noticed them out of the corner of his eye, turning to take a couple quick selfies before they scurried away. His smile was tight from nerves, but they didn't seem to care.  “As adorable as it is to see you with your adoring fans,” Benny laughed, “we really do have to get going.”

“That's what I keep telling him,” Dean says with a wink and Cas frowns at him again, stalking past him and out to the car.  Dean’s starting to think Cas’ anger is genuine, and makes a note to tone down the teasing.

They all chatted as Benny drove them across town to the premier, following the guidance of police as they approached the theater slowly, even for LA traffic.  When he pulled to a stop two cars back from edge of the red carpet, Cas took a tight hold of Dean’s hand.

“You okay?” Dean asked cautiously.

“Are you?”  Cas countered.  Dean shrugged, winking at him.

“I'm fucking fantastic, because I know when all this is over we're going back to that huge ass jacuzzi tub in the hotel room and we’re going to make good use of that bottle of lube you bought.”  Cas flushed, relaxing his grip on Dean’s hand.  The car scooted forward.

“Of course that's all you're thinking about.”

“Can you blame me?  I told you, one Castiel Novak wearing a tux is my ultimate weakness.”

“Only a few times,” Cas huffed.  The car moved forward and Benny put it in park, the guy working the carpet walking up to take hold of the door handle.

“Cas,” Dean got his attention with the brush of his fingers along his chin, “this isn't going to change anything, how many times do I have to tell you that?”  Cas leaned forward and kissed him on the corner of his mouth just before the man opened their door and they were assaulted by the screams of the fans and the shouting of the reporters.

“Just once more,” Cas whispered, turning from Dean and climbing out of the car.  Dean plastered on his best smile, painfully aware of all the camera flashes assaulting them.  He walked up next to Cas and placed his hand on his lower back, letting him know he was ready, and they started forward.  They paused in front of more cameras than Dean had ever seen in his life, Cas wrapping his arm around Dean and stepping close as the bulbs flashed.

“This is nuts,” Dean muttered, trying to move his lips as little as possible.

“The headlines tomorrow will be even crazier,” Cas leaned in to whisper.  Dean flushed but his grin was genuine.  Cas pulled away quickly as they were ushered forward, leaving Dean to scurry after him.

The next section of the carpet was the reporters, each allowed a question or two before Dean and Cas would be shuffled on to the next person shoving a microphone at them.  The questions from the reporters were almost all directed at Cas, with only a few stopping Dean to talk to him  _ about _ Cas.  Dean was impressed by how little hate there was at the event that night, considering the grief they'd dealt with earlier on.  An openly LGBT book written by an openly LGBT author that was made into an openly LGBT movie had earned them all sorts of protests and anger over the past three years.  When it first started to roll in over social media, it was extremely hard on Cas to hear the hurtful things people were saying about Anna’s story, his own pain a secondary discomfort.  Over time both he and Dean had grown a fairly thick skin, and Cas had learned to roll with the trolls and the haters.  He'd come to an understanding that in the end, their opinion really didn't matter, the only one that mattered was his own.  It had taken Dean hard work to convince him of that, but being there now, in the public eye with him and seeing nothing but adoration... it was worth it.

They reached the end of the line of reporters and Dean chuckled sympathetically at the security man escorting them on the carpet when they reached the section where the fans were.  As was his nature, Cas spent way too much time with them, taking selfies and signing posters, and the guard assigned to them was about to have a fit when Dean finally stepped in and pulled Cas away from them.

They met up with the actors from the movie when they got inside the theater to where their seats were, shaking hands and posing for a few photographs.  Dean had met them in passing, they were all fairly good people, but he didn't participate in the conversation much.  Cas knew them better than Dean did, he'd spent a good amount of time out in LA at the beginning of all this.  Cas was quiet, though, almost too quiet, his eyes unfocused on something in the distance.  More than once Dean had brushed his elbow to try and ask what was wrong, but Cas would shake his head and shy away.  Eventually Dean just let him be, no matter how worried he was.

A studio executive Dean didn't recognize got up to introduce the movie, and they settled into their seats to watch.  Dean and Cas had seen the movie at the studio before, but seeing it in a theater surrounded by people who loved the story as much as Cas was a gratifying experience.  Dean even caught Cas wiping hastily at his eyes a few times when the crowd reacted strongly to the movie.

Afterwards, Cas and the actors were called up to the stage along with the producers and a whole load of other people Dean was sure had something important to do with the movie, but he had no idea who they were.  His eyes were focused on Cas, during the entirety of the producer’s speech and the director’s speech, trying to gauge his mood and surprisingly failing.  Something was going on with Cas tonight that went beyond public anxiety.

Cas’ turn to speak came up and Dean smiled at him in encouragement as he took the mic, holding it in both his hands like a comfort object.  Cas gave his rehearsed thank you speech, Dean had heard it about twenty times on the flight over.

Well, until Cas changed it.

“I know a lot of you noticed someone new with me tonight,” Cas said, his eyes finally meeting Dean’s confused ones.  “This well guarded secret has been my rock through this whole process, I couldn't have done this without him.”  Dean grinned, and he knew Cas could practically see him planning revenge for calling him out like this.   Cas didn't seem deterred.  “And I'm going to embarrass him right now because he asked me a question almost three years ago, and I never gave him an answer.”  People started to cheer, and Dean flushed a deeper red.   _ Fuck me he is NOT doing this right now.   _ Cas walked down off the stage and over to his seat, smiling at him the whole time.  “Yes,” he said simply, before lowering the mic to lean in and kiss Dean in front of hundreds of people and cameras.

Dean couldn't care less.

Cas said  _ yes. _

His nerves made a lot more sense now, but all that was forgotten as Dean pushed himself to his feet, hugging Cas tightly as the room clapped and cheered around them.

“I'm going to get you back for this,” Dean breathed while the mic was out of range, trying to keep his cool and  _ not  _ cry.

“I'm counting on it,” Cas laughed, and with reluctance Dean released him, letting Cas hand off the microphone and get back on stage for the last big thank you from the executives.  

On the walk back to their car, the fans and reporters were going absolutely  _ crazy. _  Dean hadn't posed for this many pictures in his entire  _ life _ , but it seemed everywhere he turned there was someone else pointing a camera at him, and his cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling so much.  But he couldn't seem to stop smiling, Cas’ arm around his waist was a physical reminder that after three years, Cas wanted to make this official.  They climbed into Benny’s car, and Dean took one look at the smirk on his face and jabbed a finger in his friend’s direction.

“Not a word,” he snapped.  Benny laughed.

“Sure thing, boss.  Just find it amusing you were left hanging for three whole years.”

“I- I didn't-” Cas stammered immediately, flushing bright red.  “I didn't ‘leave him hanging’,” Cas grumbled.  

“You kinda did,” Dean pointed out casually.  

“You said you didn’t need an answer,” Cas rolled his eyes, crawling into Dean’s lap with a glare on his face.  Benny seemed to sense where Dean’s thoughts were going, and coughed loudly.

“Okay, congrats and all, but no sex in the car,” he chastised.  

“Ugh,  _ fine,”  _ Cas huffed.  His eyes glittered dangerously as he climbed off of Dean’s lap.

Benny was  _ not  _ driving fast enough.

 

The next morning, Dean woke up in complete physical and emotional bliss, wrapped tightly around Cas from behind.  They were still naked, and evidence of their activities from the night before still clung to their skin, but Dean couldn't be bothered to get up just yet.  He dropped his lips to Cas’ shoulder, pressing soft kisses over the curve of his neck, and Cas stirred with a groan.

“Too early,” he mumbled.  Dean grinned, his fingers trailing lightly over Cas’ bare chest.

“You're the one who refused to call it quits till I hit orgasm number three.  Not my fault at all,” he teased.  

“Like you were going to stop me,” Cas scoffed, turning in Dean’s arms to face him with his eyebrow raised.  Dean kissed him, morning breath be damned, and Cas relented, tongue lazily sliding against Dean’s.  Dean nudged Cas’ jaw with his knuckles, bringing their foreheads together.

“I'm afraid to turn my phone back on,” he sighed.

“Me too,” Cas agreed.  “God knows what Gabe’s been sending me.”  Dean took a deep breath, kissing Cas once more before rolling over to grab both of their phones off the side table, handing Cas his.  

It was mostly congratulatory texts and messages from their friends, with later timestamped entries from Ellen and Bobby.  Sam sent him this essay long message about being proud of him, and Gabriel sent him a link to an online “adult superstore” that Dean was never going to click on.  Dean considered looking at the news, but changed his mind, putting his phone down after sending a thank you reply to all the messages he'd received.

“How is it?” Dean asked Cas.  

“Not bad, not bad at all,” Cas sighed.  He put his own phone down, stretching and climbing out of bed, walking towards the bathroom.  “George Takei tweeted out a congratulations, by the way,” he added.

“Oh, we’re so inviting him to the wedding,” Dean laughed, following behind Cas.

“I'm hoping to keep it as small as possible.”  Cas turned on the water for the shower, and Dean walked up behind him, taking hold of his hips and pressing kisses against his neck.

“As long as Sammy is there I don't care if we have ten people or ten thousand,” Dean hummed, “I just wanna marry you.”  Cas dropped his head back against Dean’s shoulder, a soft smile on his face.

“Then we better get showered so we can head home and get Jo and Gabe started on planning this.”

_ Home _ .

Home to Kansas, to Dean’s booming vintage car restoration business and their little vegetable garden Cas had cultivated.  Home to their friends and family, to the Roadhouse.  Home to Sam and Gabriel’s apartment at KU, the two of them still together and going strong, Sam getting ready for his first year of law school and Gabe who was working on the last bit of his Masters.  Home to see Anna, who had started improving with visits from both Dean and Cas, and who had actually ventured outside her home to their farm a few times.  Home to the house they've perfected, complete with the two spare bedrooms that have sat much too empty for the past few years.  

Dean had left for LA simply for a job, for the money to help his brother.  What he'd found there had changed him, and had changed Cas as well.  Two souls who never doubted they'd end up alone had found each other, tested each other, and in the end had healed each other.  

If he was going to spend forever with someone, Dean was glad it was Castiel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Closing time, every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end."


	14. Timestamp: Always

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I couldn't do it, I couldn't stay away. Here you go, guys, have a little sneak peek into Dean and Cas' lives in the years after the end of the story.

**Always**

 

_ When the world gets too heavy _ _   
_ _ Put it on my back, I’ll be your levy _ _   
_ _ You are taking me apart _ _   
_ _ Like bad glue on a get well card _ _   
_ _ It was always you falling for me _ _   
_ _ Now there's always time calling for me _ _   
_ _ I'm the light blinking at the end of the road _ _   
_ _ Blink back, to let me know _ __   
  


_ I'm a fly that's trapped in a web _ _   
_ _ But I'm thinking that my spider's dead _ _   
_ _ Lonely, lonely little life _ _   
_ _ I could kid myself in thinking that I'm fine _ _   
_ _ It was always you falling for me _ _   
_ _ Now there's always time calling for me _ _   
_ _ I'm the light blinking at the end of the road _ _   
_ _ Blink back, to let me know _ __   
  


_ That I'm skin and bone _ _   
_ _ Just a king and rusty throne _ _   
_ _ Oh, the castle's under siege _ _   
_ _ But the sign outside says 'leave me alone' _ _   
_ _ It was always you falling for me _ _   
_ _ Now there's always time calling for me _ _   
_ _ I'm the light blinking at the end of the road _ _   
_ _ Blink back, to let me know _ _   
_ _ (It was always you) _ _   
_ _ Blink back, to let me know _ _   
_ __ (It was always you)

~*~*~*~

 

“Daddy!”  Dean winced at the piercing scream, resignedly making his way upstairs. 

“What is it?” he sighed, walking into his eldest child's room.  Her face was screwed up with repressed tears, and it took all of Dean’s willpower to keep a straight face and remain at the door with his arms crossed.  A quick look around the mostly pink and white room at the mess of hair accessories and beauty supplies on the floor let him know exactly what had happened.  His daughter fancied herself a fashionista and a makeup blogger, even though at this stage she “blogged” mostly to her stuffed animals and her friends during sleepovers.  And yeah, maybe she was a  _ tiny  _ bit spoiled, in spite of his and Cas’ best effort not to do so.  From the moment they'd adopted her she'd had them both wrapped around her fingers, even at age two.

“Daddy, this  _ always _ happens when Papa is away!  Why can't he just leave me alone?!”  His daughter is tugging on her long blonde hair agitatedly, her big brown eyes filled with tears.  Dean walks further into the room, carefully stepping around the mess on his 11 year old daughter’s floor.   _ Almost 12 _ , he corrects himself.

“Were you bossing him again?” he asked pointedly.  Her cheeks flushed a bright red and her eyes darted to the side.

“N-no!” she sniffs.

“Stasia,” Dean sighs, “just because Papa is gone it doesn't mean-”

“But Josh was playing that  _ stupid  _ game again, and he had it turned up  _ super _ loud, and Papa hates it when he plays that game before his reading is done and-”

“And I will talk to him about it,” Dean interrupts.  “I know he was breaking the rules, sweetie, that doesn't-”

“But Daddy!” 

“Anastasia, enough,” Dean cuts her off sternly.  “I will talk to your brother, but you need to stop pestering him.”  She looks up at him like she's been betrayed, stalking away from Dean to drop into the chair in front of her vanity, crossing her arms with her back to him.

“I wish Papa were here,  _ he  _ wouldn't be so mean,” she spits, her voice trembling as she starts to cry.  Dean can hear Cas’ voice in his head, telling him it's just her growing up, that she doesn't mean it, but it still hurts.  Dean sighs heavily and leaves her room, closing the door behind him.  The next stop he makes is to his 8 year old son Joshua’s room.  He knocks, and he hears a quick rustling, so he counts to three before opening the door.

“Hey, Josh,” Dean says casually, his son looking up at him from his bed, the picture of pure innocence as he puts his book down.  Every single superhero in creation covers his son’s room, from Marvel to DC, though he seems to show a favoritism for Batman.  He's been in martial arts for a few years now, and fancies himself a superhero in training.  Cas blames Dean, saying Joshua has picked up on his hero complex, but Dean doesn't think it's a bad thing.

“What's up, Dad?” his son asks.  Dean walks over to the TV, turning it on to reveal the pause screen of Super Smash Brothers.  Josh groans and flops back on his pillow.  “Stasia tattled didn't she?”

“Josh, that's not the point,” Dean says quietly.  

“She always wants to be in charge when Papa is gone, like she's special because she's the oldest.”

“Buddy, listen-”

“I did extra reading at school today, I just wanted to get on for a bit before dinner!” Josh tries to defend himself.  Dean held out his hand to quiet him.

“I'm not saying your sister is your boss,” Dean says, “but if you weren't doing something wrong to begin with, she wouldn't have anything to tattle about, would she?”

“I just knocked some of her stupid hair things over, I didn't break anything,” Josh groused, kicking absently against the side of his dresser, pressed up against the foot of his bed.  Dean walked over and grabbed his foot to still it.

“I know me and Papa have talked to you about respecting other people’s things,” Dean said sternly.  “Your sister’s things are important to her, so you should treat them with respect.  You're going to apologize-”

“Dad!” 

“No argument.  You will apologize, or next time I'm going to take the PlayStation out of your room.  Understood?”  Josh grumbled and rolled over onto his stomach, tossing his book he'd been reading onto the floor.  Dean left Josh’s room, rubbing his forehead as he walked downstairs to the living room. 

When he'd signed up for this whole parenting thing, he'd known that discipline was part of it.  Warning didn't make it feel any less crappy to have his children pissed at him.  This always happens, every time Cas leaves the kids get shorter tempers, and it's all Dean can do to maintain order.

Dean stops halfway down the stairwell, glancing at the family photos lining the walls, his fingers gently brushing the corner of his and Cas’ wedding photo.

Cas’ royalties from the books and the movies have made sure that their kids will never want for anything.  Dean keeps working just to stay sane, and Cas donates a lot of his extra cash to a multitude of charities, even setting up a couple scholarships.  They both knew that part of the ‘celebrity’ package meant Cas traveling to keep up appearances, but after becoming parents it became harder and harder to let Cas go.

The hardest nine months of Dean’s life were during the premier of Cas’ final movie.  Their youngest, Jimmy, had just turned two, and the stress of having Cas gone for so long had nearly broken Dean, even with Ellen and Bobby’s help.  Rumors had been spread by one of those stupid tabloid type news shows that Cas had been seen with someone.  Dean hadn't believed them, not really, but it was enough to kick start the worst argument Dean and Cas had ever had.  It was bad enough that Dean had even left the kids with Ellen for a couple days to just  _ drive _ , spending a weekend alone at some dive a few hours away.

Other than answering the phone so Cas could talk to the kids, he hadn't spoken to Cas for a month, not till Cas had finally returned home and managed to set things right.

Since then, Cas had worked it out with his publisher than he'd never be gone longer than a couple weeks at a time, but even that was still hard on Dean.  Especially now with Anastasia approaching puberty and Josh feeding off of, and into, her attitude.  Dean resumes walking downstairs, smiling at the sight that greets him.

Their youngest, 6 year old Jimmy, is sprawled across the living room floor, art supplies and coloring books strewn all around him.  Their children’s DNA didn't make a lick of difference with how much they were loved, but after adopting two, Dean had insisted that they have at least one biological child.  Cas’ little swimmer had won out in the womb of their surrogate, and their son was practically a carbon copy of his father.  Dean kneels to ruffle his dark hair fondly, and Jimmy paused in his drawing to look up at him.

“Are you okay, Daddy?” he asked.  Dean smiled at him, his eyes so much like Cas’ it made Dean’s chest hurt.

“Yeah, I just miss Papa,” he says simply.  Jimmy nods.  

“Me, too.  I made him a picture for when he comes back.”  He picks up a piece of construction paper and hands it to Dean.  In spite of his age, Jim has shown an extraordinary talent in art, and Dean smiled at the drawing of their little family.

“I'm sure he’ll love it,” Dean said with a grin, giving the picture back and pressing a kiss into the top of Jimmy’s head.  Jimmy goes back to drawing and Dean walks out into the kitchen to get dinner ready.

Dean has the chicken part of the chicken parmesan cooking in the oven when his phone rings.  His brother’s ringtone plays, and Dean answers with a sigh.

“Hey, Sammy, what's goin on?”

“Hey, Dean.  You okay?  You sound a little stressed,” Sam asks.  Dean smiles, the knot in his chest unwinding a bit.  It was like Sam knew exactly when Dean needed him to call.

“Yeah, just the kids, you know how they get.”

“Ours are still too small to talk back, but I'm sure I'll understand your pain soon enough,” Sam chuckles.  After graduating law school and working for a couple different firms, Sam had been offered a full partnership in Boston.  After a bit of convincing on Dean’s part, Sam and Gabe had moved out there just a few months after getting married themselves.  They'd since adopted two kids, Leila who was turning 5 and Nathan who'd be 3 next month.  Dean made regular trips to visit, thanks to Cas’ money, but he definitely missed having his brother just a few hours drive away.

“You know, I never thought I'd say it, but I miss your face, Sammy,” Dean sighed.  He put a pot of water on the stove to boil, leaning on the counter while he waited.

“Wow, you sure you're okay?” Sam chuckled.

“Shut up,” Dean groused.  He softened, lowering his voice so Jimmy couldn't hear him.  “I just hate this.  I can't do this whole parenting thing by myself.”

“Cas has left before, Dean.  Your kids are wonderful, you're doing a great job.”

“Stasia is 11, Sam.  Almost 12.  I couldn't handle puberty when I was going through it, let alone explain it to my daughter.”

“So call Ellen.  I'm sure Grams would be happy to help,” Sam laughed.  Dean laughed too, imagining the talking to he'd get from her for being a coward before she used the excuse to come see the kids and came over anyway.  “When does Cas land?”  Dean glanced at the clock.

“Not for another four hours, then it's a two hour drive,” he sighed, dumping the spaghetti in the boiling water.

“Aright.  Oh, the reason I called!  Gabe wants to do thanksgiving here this year.”

“Really?  What changed his mind?”

“Apparently one flight with Nathan a year is enough for him.  I think it serves him right, the kid is shaping up to be just like him.  A taste of his own medicine.”

“I'll talk to Cas, see what he thinks.  You're going to call Ellen?”

“Of course,” Sam chuckled.  Dean hears Gabe shout something in the background, and Sam laughs.  “I gotta help with bath time, I'll talk to you later, alright?”  

“Later, Sammy,” Dean chuckled, hanging up and finishing dinner.

He got the table set and dinner served out before calling the kids down for dinner.  Stasia was still pouting, but Josh walked up and apologized to his sister just like Dean had asked, and Dean tried not to smile in case they thought he was making fun of them.  Jimmy squinted suspiciously at his pre cut chicken and spaghetti.

“Is there cheese on this?” he asked Dean.

“The cheese is the best part,” Josh sighed, scooping a forkful up off his own chicken and shoving it in his mouth.

“No, there's no cheese on yours,” Dean assured his son.  Jimmy squinted at him, looking like a mini Cas, and after some careful inspection with his fork he started to eat. 

Dean focused on eating his own food, pretending to be oblivious to the silent conversation going on between Anastasia and Joshua, until finally his daughter turned to him and batted her eyelashes.

“Daddy?  Do you think we could stay up and wait for Papa?” she asked, trying her darndest to puppy dog eye Dean.

“Sorry, guys.  I know you miss him but you have school tomorrow.”  He waits for the chorus of groans to subside.  “But if you go to bed early, I'll wake you up earlier in the morning and you can have an extra hour before school, how's that?”  He got the expected grumbling, but they were a bit too quick to finish eating and head upstairs to get ready for bed.  Anastasia and Joshua get themselves bathed, then Dean helps get Jimmy set up in his bath, making sure all three brush their teeth while he goes back downstairs to get the dishes done.

One by one, Dean tucks his kids in.  Stasia giving him a sweet kiss on the cheek, her way of apologizing for her attitude earlier.  Joshua pretending he doesn't need to be tucked in, but smiling when Dean turns to leave.

“Ready for bed, dude?” Dean asks Jimmy when he walks in his room.  It's covered in drawings and artwork of his own design, plus a few pieces Dean and Cas did for him, and some prints of actual classical art.

“Daddy?” Jimmy asks when Dean pulls his blanket over him.

“What’s up?”

“Are you mad at Papa?”  Dean pauses, kneeling next to his son’s bed.

“Of course not.  What makes you say that?” Dean asked, brushing his son’s damp hair off his forehead.

“You've had your sad face on today.  You usually only seem sad when you're mad at Papa.”  Dean sighs, swallowing against the lump in his throat.

“It's hard for Daddy when Papa is gone,” Dean admits. 

“Because you love him?” Jimmy asks.

“Mhmm.  I love him so much.  Just like I love you, and Stasia, and Josh.”  Jimmy pauses to think for a moment.

“Will I get married someday?” Jimmy asks.  Dean chuckles.

“Someday,” Dean agrees.  “Hopefully not for a long, long, time.”  

“Will I have to marry a boy, like you?  Or could I marry a girl, like Aunt Charlie?”  Dean has  _ no  _ idea where these questions are coming from, and the thought of his little boy growing up and marrying  _ anyone  _ has his emotions running crazy.

“You can marry anyone you want,” Dean sighs, pressing a kiss to his forehead.  “But not, tonight, okay?”  Dean pushes himself to his feet, wincing when his knees pop.  “Love you, little man.”

“I love you, too, Daddy.”  Dean flips the light switch off, shutting his son’s door and slowly making his way downstairs.  He watches some nonsense TV to try and stay awake and wait up for Cas, but after an hour he's hardly able to keep his eyes open.  He stifles a yawn, rubbing his back as he stoops to pick up the last of Jimmy's crayons.  He's getting  _ old _ , if he's considering going to bed at the same time as his kids.  He tidies up the kitchen, turning off the lights and peeking out the window at the barn across the yard, the pathway between it and the house now well lit with lights he'd installed when they'd adopted Anastasia.  

And someone is walking down it.

All his exhaustion gone, Dean grins, moving to the door and pulling it open, watching as Cas makes his way up to him with a broad smile on his face.

“You're home early,” Dean points out, pressing a kiss to Cas’ forehead as his husband drops his bag and wraps his arms around him.

“Caught an earlier flight, couldn't wait to see you guys,” Cas hums, nuzzling into Dean’s neck.  Dean breathes him in for one more moment before grabbing Cas’ suitcase and pulling him inside.  Cas breathes deep, pausing and looking around the house just like he had the first time he'd walked in 15 years ago.  “The kids in bed already?” he whispers.

“I didn't know you'd be here this early, so I told them you’d spend a bit of extra time with them before school tomorrow.”  Dean turns out the last living room light and leads Cas upstairs, putting Cas’ suitcase in their bedroom as his husband checks in on the kids.  Dean is in the process of unpacking Cas’ dirty clothes when a pair of arms slide around him from behind, the attached hands sliding up under his tshirt to gently rub over the small pudge he'd acquired due to age.

“Mmm, god I fucking missed you guys,” Cas breathes into Dean’s neck.  Dean turns and runs his hands over Cas’ cheeks, thumbs smoothing over the lines at the corner of his eyes.  Even after all these years, Cas was still one sexy motherfucker, and watching him be a dad to their kids had only made Dean love him more.  

“How was your publisher’s party?  Fifteen years since you published your last book, make you feel old?”  He teased.  Cas raised an eyebrow, gently shoving Dean into bed where he proceeded to undress him with his eyes.

“I'll show you who's feeling old,” Cas hummed smugly, walking over to the bedroom door and locking it.

Since they'd been apart for a couple weeks, Dean was expecting more possessiveness, or urgency, from Cas.  Instead he was gentle, touching Dean with reverence as he undressed him, eyes filled with adoration.  Each kiss and brush of his fingers is filled with emotion until Dean was on the verge of tears.  Dean’s every breath is a sigh as Cas makes love to him, thrusting long and slow, filling Dean both physically and emotionally.

“I missed you,” Dean slurred quietly into Cas’ neck, wrapping his legs tighter around him to pull him closer.

“Missed you so much,” Cas breathes.  “ _ Hate  _ being away from you.”  He presses tender kisses against Dean’s throat, his hand reaching down to wrap around Dean’s erection.  A few more thrusts and Cas is there, panting against Dean’s skin as his hand works Dean to his orgasm.  Dean runs a hand through Cas’ sweaty hair, keeping his legs wrapped tight to keep him from moving.

“You okay?” Dean asks quietly.  Cas turns his head and presses a kiss into Dean’s wrist.

“Yeah, just…every trip gets harder and harder.”

Dean finally releases Cas and allows him to clean them up, and as they curl up together in bed, Dean tells him every little detail that's happened with him and the kids since Cas left.  He's just finished asking about thanksgiving, which Cas seemed excited about, and he repeats the conversation Jimmy had with Dean.  Cas smiles into Dean’s chest where he's been curled up listening to him talk.

“Jimmy is too old for his age,” Cas sighs.

“Tell me about it,” Dean chuckles.  He presses his lips into Cas’ hair, breathing in the scent of him, taking it in and letting it soothe away all his hard edges.  “Stasia needs to be reminded she's not Josh’s boss when you're not around,” Dean sighs.  Cas groans, nosing along Dean's skin and nipping at him gently.

“She's like you, too stubborn about following the rules.”

“Hey, I'm a rebel,” Dean scoffs, laughing when Cas looks up at him, his face the picture of disbelief.  “Okay, fine, but it's the same reason she won't listen to me.”

“I'll talk to her,” Cas sighed.  He poked at Dean until Dean rolled over, curling up flush behind him and tucking his chin over Dean’s shoulder.  Dean burrows into Cas’ arms, relishing their weight and their comfort as he starts to drift off.  “Dean?”

“Hmm?”

“I think I'm going to start writing again,” Cas says quietly.

“Mmm, good, Cas,” Dean hums.  Cas’ lips press into his shoulder.

“Do you want to know what about?” he asks. 

“Sure,” Dean sighed.  Cas’ nose brushes his ear.

“See, there's this FBI agent, who accidentally gets involved with his confidential informant, this roguish guy with a bad attitude…”

Dean drifts off to sleep to the sound of Cas’ voice, wrapped in love and contentment.

 

 

Dean stirs the next morning as Cas gets out of bed.

“Shh, stay, sleep a little longer,” Cas soothes, but Dean knows once the kids know Cas is home they won't have another quiet moment like this, and he wants to spend it with Cas.

“Nah, I'm good,” Dean stretched, tossing back the covers and getting up.  “I'll get breakfast going while you get the kids up.”  Dean pushes himself to his feet, wincing both at his creaking joints and at the sweet ache from their activities the night before.  

“Getting old, Winchester,” Cas smirks and walks into the bathroom, Dean smacking his ass as he chased after him.

“I'm not the only one,” Dean huffed.  Cas’ hands self consciously went to his temples, smoothing out the tiny bit of grey starting to creep into his hair.  “Hey,” Dean soothed, pressing an apologetic kiss against his shoulder as he got the shower running.  “You look fine.  More sophisticated even.”  

“We’ll just see how you fare when your grey starts to come in,” Cas teased.

They share a few chaste kisses as they shower, cleaning up quickly and climbing out, taking turns brushing their teeth and shaving.  Once dressed, Dean paused to hug Cas close, pressing his lips against his forehead.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he breathes.  Cas smiles, squeezing Dean tightly.  

“I love you, too.  Come on, let's go face the army.”  Dean made his way down to the kitchen as Cas went to Stasia’s bedroom.  Her excited squeals a few moments later wake her brothers, and soon Dean hears the thudding of feet overhead as all the kids are running to Cas.  Dean smiles to himself as he mixes pancake batter, heating up the griddle.  He can see in his mind’s eye, Cas wrestling to get the kids off him and into clothes for school, trying to listen to all three of them as they tell him about their week.  Dean’s finished off the pancakes by the time all four members of his family finally make their way downstairs.

“Pancakes!” Jimmy shouts excitedly, rushing over to his seat with an expectant smile on his face.  The other kids find their seats and Cas sits down, whatever attempt that had been made for his hair to stay flat long abandoned.

“Papa brought us presents, Daddy!” Stasia announces excitedly as Dean brings her a plate.

“I know, I got mine last night,” Dean says, winking at Cas as his husband’s cheeks pink slightly.

“What did he get you?” Josh asked.  Dean set a plate down in front of him and Jimmy.

“Can't tell, it's a surprise,” he shrugs.  

“It's probably something romantic, like a necklace or something,” Stasia in her ‘know-it-all’ voice as she digs into her food.  Dean meets Cas’ eyes and can't help but stop and give him a quick kiss.

“Something like that,” he agrees.

“Ewww, Dad stop being gross,” Josh sighs.  Dean bends and kisses Cas again and Cas smiles into it when Josh groans again.

“Eat your breakfast,” Cas urges.  Dean hands Cas a cup of coffee and a plate of food before taking his own seat.

“Can we go for a ride today, Daddy?” Jimmy asks.  Dean and Cas, being practical, had bought a Chevy Equinox for carting the kids around, which meant trips in the Impala had become a treat.  Dean, wanting to share his love of cars with his kids, had installed a third seatbelt in the backseat of Baby, and would take them all out on short road trips, usually to Ellen's.  Cas’ eyes seemed to light up at the suggestion, so Dean shrugged.

“I don't see why not.  So long as everyone’s homework gets done.”  A cheer went up from all three kids, and seeing that their plates were empty, Cas waved them all towards the stairs.

“Okay, go wash up and brush your teeth.”  Josh and Jimmy hopped up and took off for the stairs, but when Stasia went to walk past, Cas reached out a hand to gently stop her.  “Not you, punkin.”  She glances at Dean as her smile fades and stands in front of Cas, her head hanging low.  Dean sips his coffee and sits back as Cas talks to their daughter.

“Daddy told you what Josh did?” she mumbled.

“Yes he did, and he told me why.”  Cas brushes her hair off her face.  “Here, turn around.”  She does and he deftly starts to braid her hair, something Dean still hasn't quite mastered.  “Why were you telling Josh what to do?” he asks gently.

“Cuz he was breaking your video game rule,” she admits.

“And what did Josh do?”

“He...made a mess of my supplies.”

“Josh got mad, because you tried to tell him what to do, when he didn't think he was doing anything wrong,” Cas explains quietly.

“But-”

“Want to know a secret?” Cas asked, finishing her braid and tying it up deftly.  She turned and nodded slowly.  “Sometimes Daddy eats dessert before dinner.”

“Hey!” Dean scoffs, wondering why he was being brought into this.  Stasia giggles.

“He does?”

“Mhmm.  Especially when it's one of Gram’s pies.”  Cas presses a gentle kiss to her forehead.  “Punkin, Daddy and I make the rules for a reason, but some rules are bigger than others.  Sometimes the rules get broken, but if it's a small rule, it's not as bad as a big rule.”

“Like not touching the knives or the stove in the kitchen by ourselves?”

“Exactly,” Cas agrees.  “Daddy talked to Josh, but next time that happens, just talk to us, okay?”  She nods and hugs Cas tightly, and then surprises Dean by running up to him and hugging him tight as well.  He presses a kiss into her hair as he hugs her back.

“Love you, baby girl,” he sighs.

“Love you too, Daddy.”  She lets go and runs upstairs to brush her teeth.  Cas watches her go with a smile on his face.

“You are so good at that, Papa,” Dean sighs.  Cas pushes to his feet, walking up and kissing the top of Dean’s head.

“It's a team effort, Dean.  You're half of it.”  He pours himself a little more coffee.  “Oh, and I did get you a present,” he adds.  Dean stands, walking up behind Cas and resting his hands on his hips.

“I know, it was awesome,” he purrs, and he can practically hear Cas roll his eyes.

“A real one,” he sighs, grabbing Dean’s hand and pulling him upstairs.  He opens the front pocket on his carry on and pulls out a bubble wrapped package, handing it to Dean.  Dean unwraps a beautiful silver hinged frame, room for two photos on each side.  Three of the slots are empty, but the one that's not…

“Cas, where did this picture come from?” Dean asks breathlessly.  It's a candid shot of the two of them from years ago, they're both smiling and laughing, with heart eyes to the extreme.

“Apparently Charlie shot that photo, just before we left for the book tour.  Remember, the little get together she'd planned?”

“So this was before…”  Before the tour.  Before the heartache of their time apart, before they both realized they'd been in love the whole time.

“We were so far gone on each other, even then,” Cas chuckled.  Dean smiled, pressing a kiss against his husband’s cheek.

“Still are, hot stuff.”  

“Papa!!  We're ready!”  Josh’s shout breaks the moment, and Cas steps towards their bedroom door.

“Hurry back,” Dean says offhandedly, “I might have bought a new pair of our favorite things.”  Cas hurried out of the room a bit faster, and Dean sets the frame up on his shelf with a laugh.

His eyes roam across the pictures filling the shelves to bursting.  Baby photos, wedding photos, all documenting his and Cas’ lives together.

“Yeah,” he sighed, smiling to himself as he listens to the sound of his family moving about downstairs.  “Perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the true end to this story, I'm afraid. 
> 
> *hugs and kisses and all the love*

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading everyone! Please leave me comments and kudos!!


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